Mom's Room

We call it the guest room. Well, Esther does, but she's always been the more optimistic of the two of us. The guest room, though we've never had guests in there, and likely won't for a while. The guest room, though used to be my Mom's room. It used to be.

The pandemic had screwed everything up. Mom couldn't stay in the retirement home anymore. Before the lockdown hit us, we got her out. I didn't want her to be alone. Esther agreed, and so we did it. We saved her. Or, so I thought.

It wasn't the pandemic that killed her. It had killed so many, but not Mom. We were careful. Masks. Sanitizing. I went to the store alone. Esther could work from home, so Mom wasn't even alone during the day. But it was the cancer. It came back, it was worse. Doctors only did video-chats with Mom, saying bedrest was all they could do. Hospitals weren't safe for her compromised immune system. 

It only took six months. Six months after she moved in and she was gone. No funeral. No family. We had her cremated, kept the ashes. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. But she was gone. I couldn't believe it. She was gone.

Until she came back.

The evening was going as they had for the last year: lazy supper, binge watching some "look-at-your-phone-while-it's-in-the-background" show, and early to bed. Esther had said just one more episode and then bed, but that was three episodes ago. As I clicked "Next Episode", she groaned.

"Seriously, honey?" Esther complained. She turned to me, pulling out her best pouty face. It's hard to resist, that one. But I did my best. I returned my best smirk.

"Seriously? It's only 8:30. We can watch another one."

Esther shook her head. "You haven't watched any of them. You're so deep in you phone, do you even remember what this show is called?" 

My eyes shot to the screen. The title was usually showing between episodes, but it had already jumped to the start of the episode. Esther quickly reached over and snapped up the remote, turning off the TV before I could remember which show that particular collection of characters belonged to. 

I sighed. "Sorry. Yeah, let's go bed." She smiled at me, throwing the remote back at me, hitting my chest. 

BOOM.

We both jumped. I stared down at the remote, confused. Was that the remote hitting my chest? I looked up at Esther. She was staring at the ceiling. "What was that?" she asked, more angry than afraid. I shook my head, though she didn't look at me, and I followed her gaze. 

BOOM.

Again, louder, I think. Or maybe it was because we saw the ceiling thud with the noise, the hanging plant sway from the commotion. I stood up, headed for the stairs. Esther was right behind me. As we ran up the stairs, another boom. I felt this one. As we rounded the stairs, we stopped dead in our tracks. Mom's room door, the guest room door was closed. And someone was banging on it, from the inside. 

I backed up slowly, bumping into Esther. She had her phone out, and was talking. I couldn't hear her words. I just stared. My fear turned to curiosity, too quickly. Who was it? The front door was locked, they always locked it after supper. Right?

I turned to Esther. "Let's go back down" I whispered. She nodded. As I followed her down the stairs, I could hear her giving our address. My eyes stayed on the top of the stairs and the door. My Mom's door. The guest room door. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard Esther say, too loudly "30 minutes? Are you %$#&ing kidding me? We could be murdered by then!" 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The booming became louder more frantic, as if convinced that someone was there. Someone could hear it. Someone could answer.

"We should go outside," I whispered, failing to hide the fear in the voice. Esther's eyes flashed to mine. I saw the transition from angry woman to protective warrior. She glance down, then took a deep breath.

"You know what? I've got a bat. %$#& you. I'll deal with it myself." 

Esther hung up her phone to audible protests, then tossed me her phone. She reached over, grabbing the baseball bat we kept by the front door. I'd never considered it before, but the bat was our last line of defence in this house. Esther hadn't played in years, but I valued her swing over mine. I followed her as she slowly made her way back up the stairs.

It wasn't until we reached the top that I realized the knocking had stopped. Perhaps it had stopped when Esther had screamed into her phone, or when she grabbed the bat. I couldn't be sure, but I pushed the thought away as Esther moved in on Mom's room, the guest room door.

"Whoever's in there, get ready to get %$#&ed up!"

"Esther!" I said, barely above a whisper. She shot me a glance. It spoke volumes: both "shut up" and "I got this" in one. But the moment she looked away from the door...

BOOM!

I don't know if it was the fear, the sudden break in silence, or that something from beyond the door literally shook the house; but I fell. It was almost as embarrassing as it was painful. I landed square on my ass. Esther (damn, what a woman) had only steadied herself against the threat, raising the bat to strike the knocking invader. 

"You okay?" she called. I whimpered a response, confirming I was. I slowly got back to my feet as Esther inched towards the door. The booming had ramped up, a constant barrage of thunderous knocking. Esther, barefoot and wearing the cute penguin pyjamas I had got her on her birthday, reared up like a combat soldier and kicked in the door.

The wood of the frame fractured as the door gave way. Mom's room, the guest room, opened to us, dark and boring. The booming stopped, but so did my heart. Standing in the middle of the room, Mom's room, the guest room was the ghostly form of...

"Mom?"