Katie

I work in an office, and I'm always about to change my life. Usually in the evening. By morning, there's always some reason to leave things as they are.

That day, a colleague sent me an article. A woman named Kelly Mitchell had killed her ten-year-old daughter. She drank and had beaten the girl before, but this time the child hadn't survived.

What came next made me read the article twice. In prison, Kelly would scream at night in a language no one understood. By morning, she couldn't explain what had happened to her. She kept asking for her son Jimmy back. They reminded her of her daughter, Katie, and told her no boy had been found, but she covered her face with her hands and repeated:

“Where's my Jimmy? Give him back to me.”

They transferred her to a psychiatric hospital. A few weeks later, she died. The article didn't say what she died of.

I closed the page, then opened it again that evening. The house turned out to be near my office. For several days, I kept thinking about the woman and her daughter. At night I dreamed about a little girl. We talked, but when I woke up, I could remember neither the conversation nor her face.

In the end, I went to look at the house. I figured that would put my mind at rest.

It was a two-story house with a glass wall upstairs. Through it, I could see the kitchen and part of a bedroom. The downstairs curtains were closed. Snow lay on the path, and cars were parked outside the neighbors' houses. For some reason, I'd expected something else: boarded-up windows, police tape. Here, there was even a cup still on the kitchen table.

I stood across the street for a while, then left.

At home, I told my girlfriend, Nancy, about it. She stopped eating and looked at me.

“Why did you need to go there?”

“Just to look.”

“At what, Zack?”

I didn't have a good answer.

That night, I woke to her shaking my shoulder.

“Zack. Please wake up.”

I sat up. Nancy wouldn't let go of my hand.

“Who were you talking to?”

“I don't remember. What did I say?”

“I don't know. I couldn't understand any of it.”

Neither of us got back to sleep before morning.

At work, I read the same email several times without working out what they wanted from me. At lunchtime, I put on my jacket and went to the house. I had an hour.

I didn't go back to work that day.

The front door opened as soon as I pressed the handle. I called out and waited. Then I went through the hall and up the stairs.

It was warm upstairs. I'd even unzipped my jacket before it occurred to me that an empty house shouldn't be warm in winter.

There was an unmade bed in the bedroom. On the table lay a hairbrush, some papers, a photograph turned facedown. I went over to the window. There was a narrow balcony between two walls of glass. From here, I could see exactly where I'd stood the last time.

I found the handle on the glass door and turned it.

“Who are you?”

I spun around, caught my foot on the edge of the rug, and landed sitting on the floor.

A girl stood in the doorway. Skinny, in white shorts and a loose pink T-shirt. She looked so surprised that for a second I felt like nothing more than an idiot who'd broken into someone else's house and was now sitting on their floor.

“What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I… What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Fair question.”

I pulled myself up, holding on to the windowsill.

“I saw the house from the street. Thought I'd take a look.”

“You're not a burglar, are you?”

“No. I'm Zack.”

I held out my hand. She hesitated, then put hers in mine. Her fingers were so cold that I squeezed them without thinking, as though I could warm them up.

“Katie.”

I let go of her hand.

I don't remember getting to the stairs. As I burst out through the front door, I heard her voice close behind me:

“Wait! I remember you. You're the one I dream about!”

I slipped before I reached the road and fell to my knees. Someone took my elbow. I jerked away, but it was a man I didn't know. Beside him stood a woman carrying a shopping bag.

“What's the matter, son? Hurt yourself?”

“No. Thanks.”

“Were you in that house? You shouldn't go in there.”

I looked back. Katie stood in the open doorway.

“What is it?” the man asked.

He was looking straight at her.

“Nothing.”

They helped me up and went on their way. I brushed the snow off my pants. Katie was still waiting on the doorstep, her arms wrapped around herself.

I could have left. The corner was only twenty yards away. Beyond it was an ordinary street with shops and people. But the girl had mentioned the dreams. And if the man couldn't see her, I needed to understand why I could.

I went back to the door.

“Are you really Katie Mitchell?”

She nodded and stepped aside to let me in.

I stayed on the doorstep.

“I read about you. About your mom. It said you died.”

“I know.”

She looked down at my wet knees.

“Come in. You're dripping.”

In the kitchen, I sat near the door. Katie sat across from me.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Not all of it. They took Mom away afterward. I tried to follow her, but I couldn't get past the door.”

“Why not?”

“If only I knew.”

She ran a finger along a scratch in the table.

“Then we saw each other in dreams. We even played together. She was nice then.”

I didn't know what to say to that.

“And then?”

“Then she stopped coming. I waited. And then I dreamed about you.”

“What did we talk about?”

“I don't remember. I only recognized you when you ran.”

I thought of Kelly screaming at night, and Nancy holding my hand. I wanted to ask the girl what she'd done to her mother. But I didn't even know whether the dreams had anything to do with what had happened to Kelly. The article hadn't said a word about it.

“I loved my mom,” Katie said after a pause. “Just don't ask me about her anymore.”

I nodded.

The radiator under the window was ticking quietly. I put my hand on it.

“They didn't turn the heat off?”

“They did. A man came. I watched how he did it, then I turned it back on.”

“Do you get cold?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

She shrugged.

“Our house was always warm.”

She told me about school and a girl she was never going to be friends with again. I listened, glancing at her hands now and then.

Around five, I checked my phone. There were several missed calls from work. Katie fell silent.

“Do you have to go?”

“I should've left ages ago.”

“Will you come tomorrow?”

“I'll stop by after work.”

The next day, I got held up at the office and didn't arrive until after dark. Katie was sitting at the table with cards laid out in front of her.

“You said after work.”

“I only just got off work.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

I took off my jacket and sat across from her.

“Sorry. I'll be here by six tomorrow.”

She pushed some cards toward me and explained the rules. When I started winning, it turned out she hadn't explained all of them. Then she paused to listen to something beyond the door and asked me to wait. The first thing she did when she came back was check that I hadn't peeked at her cards.

The next day, I was outside her house at ten to six.

She would shut the door behind me for the night. I still flinched when her hand brushed mine, but going straight home after work no longer felt right. She was waiting for me, after all.

I hadn't told Nancy anything yet. She'd been watching me closely ever since that night. The dreams hadn't come back, but I felt bad taking advantage of her relief and making up excuses for being late.

At the end of the week, I told her everything.

Nancy listened without interrupting. Then she asked:

“You go there every day?”

“Almost.”

“And you talk to her?”

“Yes. Come with me. You can see for yourself.”

She looked at me for a long time, then agreed.

We bought apples on the way. I also picked up a little stuffed rabbit for Katie. Hers had been missing an ear for a long time.

No one met us at the door. We went upstairs. Nancy stayed in the kitchen while I went to find Katie and ran into her outside the bedroom.

“Who's that?” she whispered.

“Nancy. My girlfriend. I wanted you two to meet.”

“What for?”

“I've told you about her.”

“You told me about her. You didn't tell me you were bringing her.”

A floorboard creaked behind me. Nancy took my hand.

“Zack. Who are you talking to?”

“Katie. She's right here.”

I pointed at the girl.

“It's rude to point,” Katie said, pushing my hand aside.

Nancy stepped back.

“There's no one here. And what are you saying? What language is that?”

My mouth went dry.

“Can you understand me now?”

“Now I can.”

I turned to Katie.

“Why can't she see you?”

“Because I don't want her to.”

Nancy tightened her grip on my fingers.

“There. You're doing it again.”

Nothing had changed for me. I could hear my own words and Katie's replies as clearly as I'd heard Nancy a moment before.

“Please let her see you.”

“It was nice with just the two of us.”

“She's worried about me. She thinks I'm standing here talking to a wall.”

“So?”

“Look at her.”

Katie peered around my shoulder. She was quiet for a while, then sighed.

Nancy cried out and stumbled back into the kitchen, nearly knocking over a chair.

“Oh,” Katie said. “She's just like you were the first time.”

I got Nancy seated and poured her some water. She held the glass in both hands, never taking her eyes off the girl. Katie took an apple out of our bag and bit into it with a crunch.

“Can you understand her?” I asked.

Nancy nodded.

“I can now.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Nancy put her glass down.

“Are you really a ghost?”

“I don't know what you call it.”

“Do you need to eat?”

Katie looked at the apple.

“I don't know. But I can.”

Nancy managed a faint smile.

“How long have you been here on your own?”

“I haven't been counting the days.”

I remembered the date in the article. Almost two months.

Once they got talking, I remembered the rabbit. It was in my jacket pocket. I wanted to leave it on the bed so Katie would find it before she went to sleep.

It was quiet in the bedroom. I went over to the bed, lifted the edge of the rumpled blanket—and stopped.

There was a baby underneath it.

For some reason, I looked at the door first, as though I might have walked into the wrong room. Then I looked at the child again. He couldn't have been a year old. A little hand poked out from under the blanket. I touched it with my finger. He woke, screwed up his face, and began to cry.

Katie was beside me before I could straighten up.

“Why are you touching him?”

She pushed past me and picked him up.

“Who is he?”

“My brother.”

“Your…”

“Jimmy. Shh, shh. I'm here.”

I remembered the name at once. Kelly hadn't made up her son.

Katie went past me into the kitchen. I followed with the rabbit in my hand. Nancy jumped up, but the girl just told her to move over. She settled her brother on her lap and got out a bottle and a can of formula. She moved with certainty, without having to think about what came next. Soon Jimmy stopped crying.

Nancy bent over the boy, but stopped short of touching him. She looked at Katie.

“Is Jimmy… too?”

“He's alive,” Katie said.

I stepped closer. Jimmy was drinking from the bottle, his fingers moving beside it. A bead of sweat shone at his temple. When I offered him my finger, he gripped it in his warm little hand.

Beside it lay Katie's pale, cold hand.

“But the police were here.”

Katie looked down at her brother.

“I hid him. They went everywhere. I thought they'd take him away too. I didn't want them to see him or hear him.”

I remembered the man in the street looking straight through her.

“What about me? I've been coming here all week.”

“I hid him from you too.”

She adjusted the bottle.

“Today I decided I didn't have to hide him from you anymore. Then you brought her.”

Nancy was by the window, her hand pressed to her mouth.

“But your mom told them about him,” I said. “Why didn't they believe her?”

“I don't know. She had him at home. She never took him anywhere. She said she'd get the paperwork done later.”

Katie looked up at me.

“Did she ask about him?”

“Yes.”

The girl was quiet for a while, stroking her brother's head.

“I thought she'd forgotten.”

I set the rabbit on the table. Now I could see folded cloth diapers by the radiator and a bottle brush beside the sink. They hadn't been there before. Or I hadn't seen them.

Nancy picked up the can of formula.

“We have more,” Katie said, opening a lower cupboard. “Mom bought a few months' worth at a time so she wouldn't have to keep carrying all this stuff.”

Behind the open can were sealed ones, and farther back, a whole cardboard box. Under the sink, I could now see a basin with cloth diapers soaking in it.

Nancy put the can back. Katie watched her hands.

“I fed him before, too,” she said.

Nancy moved away from the window. She touched the radiator, then looked at me. I remembered Katie saying she was used to a warm house.

Jimmy let go of the bottle. Katie set it aside and wiped his chin with the edge of a cloth.

“Can I hold him?” I asked.

She pulled her brother close.

“Why?”

“Just to hold him. I'll be careful.”

Katie looked at Nancy, then back at me. Finally she let me take him, keeping a hand under him until I was settled in a chair.

He was heavier than I'd expected. Warm, restless, a real baby. He caught hold of my jacket zipper and pulled it toward himself.

“He grabs everything like that,” Katie said. “I'll get him a toy.”

She went into the bedroom. Nancy bent toward me at once.

“He needs to see a doctor.”

I nodded.

“Zack, we can't leave him here.”

Something clattered in the bedroom as Katie searched. I looked at the door, then stood up. Nancy went ahead of me.

The stairs were only a few steps away. I had one foot raised above the first step when I felt a shove against my chest. My arms were empty. I was still holding them out, afraid of dropping a child who was no longer there.

I turned around. Katie stood at the bedroom door with Jimmy in her arms. He began to cry.

“You said you just wanted to hold him.”

I opened my mouth and said nothing.

“Go away.”

“Katie, listen…”

“Go away!”

I asked Nancy to wait outside. She shook her head.

“I'll talk to her. Please.”

“I'll call a cab. We'll go to the hospital,” Nancy said. “But I'm not leaving on my own.”

She took out her phone, looked at Jimmy once more, and went downstairs.

Katie went into the bedroom. I waited in the hall until Jimmy's crying quieted, then stopped at the door.

She was sitting on the bed, rocking her brother. Tears ran down her cheeks. She couldn't wipe them away; both hands were holding the baby.

“Can I sit here?”

She didn't answer. I sat on the floor by the door.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

“You wanted to steal him.”

“I was scared for him.”

“He doesn't cry with me. You scared him.”

She was right. I listened to Jimmy sniffling in her arms and didn't know where to begin.

“You kept him safe, Katie. I understand.”

“Then leave him with me.”

“What happens when the food runs out?”

“You can bring more.”

“I can.”

She looked up at me.

“Then bring it. That's all.”

I looked toward the window. Nancy was waiting down by the road.

“What if he gets sick? Can you take him out of here?”

Katie said nothing.

“I only come after work. What if you need someone in the middle of the night?”

“I know how to look after him.”

“I know.”

Jimmy had calmed down and was reaching for her hair. Katie bent her head so he could catch hold of a strand.

“He's still little,” she said. “He's okay here.”

“For now. But one day he'll want to go outside. You used to go outside, didn't you?”

“I did.”

“He'll want to as well.”

She eased his fingers out of her hair, one by one.

“You'll take him, and I'll still be here.”

I moved closer, but didn't reach for the child.

“I'll keep coming.”

“What if you stop?”

It would have been easy to say “never.” A few minutes ago, I'd already promised her one thing and done another.

“Then you'll have been right not to trust me.”

Katie turned away. I stayed beside her.

A car passed outside. Jimmy was falling asleep; the girl adjusted the cloth by his cheek. On the floor beside the bed lay the rattle she'd gone to get. I picked it up and put it beside her on the blanket.

“Where will you take him?” she asked at last.

“To a doctor first. To make sure he's all right.”

“And then?”

“I don't know how it's all going to work yet. But I won't leave him on his own.”

“You won't let anyone hurt him?”

“No.”

She looked at me for a long time. Then she kissed Jimmy's forehead and lifted him toward me. I got onto my knees and took him, but Katie kept her hand under his back.

“If he cries, walk around with him. He likes that.”

“All right.”

“And take the rattle.”

I put it in my pocket. Katie adjusted the cloth one last time and took her hand away.

I went down the stairs slowly. At the front door, I wrapped Jimmy in my jacket as best I could and looked back. Katie was at the top of the stairs.

“I'll come tomorrow,” I said.

She nodded.

Nancy was waiting beside the taxi. When she saw us, she stepped toward me, then suddenly stopped and looked over my shoulder.

Someone touched my elbow.

“Zack.”

Katie stood beside me on the path.

“You came out of the house,” I said.

She looked down at her feet. Then at the door, still open behind her. She took another step and turned back to me.

“I did it.”

Tears were still running down her cheeks, but now she was smiling. She reached out and carefully adjusted the edge of the jacket by her brother's face.

“Thank you,” she said. “Goodbye.”

I didn't have time to answer. A moment ago she'd been standing in front of us. Now she was gone.

Nancy came close and held the jacket in place while I shifted Jimmy in my arms. He woke, screwed up his face, and began to fuss.

I rocked him a little and walked on.