I went in the basement pt. 2
“You went in the basement, didn’t you?” She stared at me, obviously waiting for an answer.
I didn’t know what to say. Yes, of course I did. But this particular job came with an hourly bonus pay, and stable 84 hours a week. That sounds like a lot, but this was supposed to be a very easy position. I was a single mom at the time, with a toddler at home. All of this crossed my mind as I tried to read this woman’s face. Was it really fear I had seen? Or was it anger? I didn’t have time to figure that out.
“Yes, I did. The sliding door came open.” I answered. I never could lie well under pressure, or any other time for that matter. Fear, I decided. It’s definitely fear on her face. Her and my coworker exchanged a look, as if they’ve had this conversation before. She shifted uncomfortably at my answer, and glanced at the house. I followed her gaze, and saw her father watching from his chair through the office window.
Her gaze slowly made it’s way back to me. “Well. Someone should have told you. We stay out of the basement.” I waited for her to elaborate. Tell me some explanation regarding it’s structural integrity. Or faulty electric. Something reasonable. She didn’t.
A shiver went down her, and she smiled suddenly instead. “Well. That’s all then. Are you staying for your shift?” She stood waiting for an answer.
Again, I was speechless. And confused. Why didn’t she come for the walk through, but my trip to the basement demanded a visit? The whole situation didn’t feel right, and I should have listened to that intuition. But still, I said “Of course. As long as you’ll have me.” She nods to me, then to my coworker. After giving one more glance to the house, she got in her car and left. My coworker stood watching her leave, before turning to head inside.
I was put off, to say the least. I started to reexamine what had happened the night before. It’s not that I’m unfamiliar with ghosts, it’s just that they’re usually not to blame. My hairs were standing up, as I started to consider the supernatural as an option. But regardless, I started to follow my coworker inside. She stopped me just outside the door, and looked me up and down. It was that look where someone really wanted to know what a person’s made of… And she didn’t seem impressed. She pulled a folded note from her pocket, and handed it out to me.
“This is my phone number.” She said, flatly. “If you cannot stay for your whole shift, call me and I will come.”
That was the biggest red flag. For anyone unfamiliar with procedure, staff is to call the office, then the family, if they are unable to finish their shift for any reason. I looked up at her, unsure what to say. Coworkers never volunteer to take over on a midnight shift. Not even the one’s who get especially attached to a client. I gave a sharp nod, still speechless, and started inside once again.
I took my coat off, and went to greet my client in his office. As I started down the hall to the right, my coworker called out to me from the kitchen. I head back and find her standing next to my client in his wheelchair. He was just finishing up some type of dessert, and had obviously been eating during our conversation outside. She glanced down, and wished him goodbye, then headed out herself.
I smile, and excused myself to the toilet. As I passed by the empty office, a wave of fear washed over me. Who had been sitting in his chair?
My client was unable to transfer himself. I had made sure to double check his charted abilities before the walk through. Still, I had agreed to the shift. I was already there alone with him. And right that second, I was anxiously pacing in the bathroom, facing a full 12 hours in the house after that warm welcome. I was going to have to just grin and bear it. Besides, if I don’t acknowledge anything’s presence, then they don’t gain any power. That’s how the movies work, right? All of this crossed my mind, until I stopped pacing and looked in the mirror. There was just no use in worrying. I’d drive myself crazy that way. With a deep breath, I headed back to the kitchen.
Despite my anxiety, time passed by uneventful. My client was experiencing sundowning, and was still awake at nearly midnight. A big part of the job was just socializing. We had gone to his office hours ago, and my anxiety had disappeared. The house was locked up, lights were off or dimmed except those in use. I remember talking with him about his travels with his wife, which to him had only just seemed to happen.
We were talking about a trip they took to India when his mood shifted. He seemed to darken. Looking up, he said, “She passed away some years ago.” I freeze for a moment. I could see it in his eyes, he was back with me. Back in the harsh reality of current day. He went on, “She’s still here though. Watching over me.” And then he was gone. I watched as he stared off into space, his eyes glazing over. I replied, but I could tell his mind was already elsewhere.
I took this as my chance to ask how he’s feeling, and if he’s ready for bed. He mumbled about bed sounding nice, and we set out for it. I helped him down the hall, and we did his night time routine in his bedroom. As I backed out, into the now dark hallway, I shut his door. Now at the end of the hall, facing the foyer, all of my fear from earlier flooded back.
The basement light was on.