When I bought the unassuming book from the shelf at a local thrift store, I wasn’t thinking about much more than saving money. We aren’t completely struggling for money but I like to save where I can. We had often prayed for Tabitha and her presence was so welcome. The costs associated with raising a child during a pandemic, were not.
We went from thriving on a one-person income, myself being a housewife, to having to tighten a few purse strings to make sure we weren’t one emergency away from being really uncomfortable financially.
Nonetheless, I loved my daughter. She was smart, ambitious and curious in the way only two year olds could be. I often found myself marveling at her discovering new things, things that I had long taken for granted. The first time she saw butterflies, I felt like I had just seen them for the first time, too. I had never noticed how beautiful their wings could be until my daughter gaped at them as if she had just seen the most glorious thing in the world.
The children’s book in question was pretty normal-looking. It wasn’t one of her normal cardboard affairs that I picked up in alarming quantities as she was beginning to get bored with the same books over and over. This one, though, was a nice hardcover. The book jacket was soft and smooth to the touch and had nice pages when I flipped through. I didn’t shop at the worst off stores but you know how things can be. People don’t always donate things in the best shape. Sometimes the books were torn and ripped more than my scotch tape could fix. Tabitha didn’t care, though. She was just hungry for more books than I could put in front of her. She would sit for hours while I cleaned, glancing through her picture books. When she grew tired of silently observing the colorful pages, I could hear her from the living room making up stories to go along with the pictures. I know a lot of parents brag…but my Tabitha was a genius.
When I presented the book to her, her eyes grew large and wondrous. She delicately took the book from my hands and traced the slightly raised letters on the cover with her hands. Mr. Gregory Needs a Friend, read the cover. Her little eyebrows scrunched as she attempted to figure out the title for herself before looking up at me imploringly. I read the title to her, my voice a mix of pride and mirth. My little serious bug, always so stern when she couldn’t figure out something for herself. She had always been so independent, even as a baby. We used to joke that if she didn’t need me to supply her food, she likely would have found a way to feed herself.
Armed with her new book, Tabitha scampered off to her room, surely to sit amongst her stuffed friends and attempt to read her book. I knew once she got tired of trying to sound out the words, I would be treated to her vivid imagination and I could never get tired of the nonsense that spilled out of her mouth. Even on her worse days (and mine), that voice made my heart swell with happiness. My husband would look at me, smirk in place as I would tell him about all the fantastical things Tabitha dreamt up today.
“Of course you think she’s a genius. She’s mini-you. My little mini-Jane.”
My husband loved our daughter just as much as I did. He just also had the firm belief that every parent thinks the sun shines out of their child’s butt and we were no exception. He would brag about her accomplishments to the other parents and sing her praises when he was regaled with her stories at dinner time, but he was more willing to admit we weren’t the exception than I was. Once when he yawned during one of my retellings, I asked him, “Don’t you love your daughter? Don’t you think she is the smartest little girl?”
“Of course,” he replied, no hesitation, “but I know that no matter how much I love her or how intelligent I know her to be, my love does not outweigh the love that the man down the street has for his own children.”
He had always been very practical. He was not as smug about our genius baby. Maybe that’s what cursed him in the end.
Moving about the kitchen, I picked up the remains of our breakfast, grimacing at the sticky residue of maple syrup from the waffles that had been served to Tabitha. Once I finished finally removing the now hardened super glue that marred the surface of our table, I stopped to listen. Tabitha was still silent.
I walked to her room, not a care in the world. As I approached the area of the house that looked as though a unicorn had exploded in it, I heard her exasperatedly sigh in frustration and a large THUMP.
“Tabitha?” I called out as I turned the corner into her room. “What’s wrong?”
The book laid across the room, cover shut and facing the floor.
“Can’t read.” eyebrows turned down in a grumpy countenance, toddler voice slightly unintelligible.
“So why didn’t you just make up a story? You know mama loves to hear them.”
“Can’t. You read it?” Eyebrows now raised hopefully.
I smiled at my child and bent down to pick up the book, “I’ll read it but only if you promise not to throw books again. Books need to be treated gently, not tossed around like a football.”
Tabitha nodded eagerly, reaching her hands out to me to be held while I read her new book.
I scooped her up into my lap, sat in the nauseatingly pink armchair that we had purchased when she was still a baby and began to read.
“Mr.Gregory needs a friend,” I read the title and turned the page, preparing to do the voices should other characters emerge.
“‘Mr. Gregory needs a friend,’ he cried. Mr.Gregory has no friends!’”
A small, pudgy man in a top hat and spats painted the page. The background was a plain picture, few flowers dotting the green ground that was surely meant to be grass. I turned the page.
“Mr.Gregory wants a friend! He needs friends to be happy!”
Okay, a little weird and on the nose but what can you do? Books for children are not known for their subtlety. Next page.
Mr.Gregory now faced directly to the front, his face meant to be staring at the person reading. His smile was happy and cheerful.
“Mr.Gregory has found a friend! YOU can be his friend!”
I glanced at Tabitha, her face was enraptured in what I was reading. I was pleased my new purchase had gone over so well. Turning the page, I was a little startled. The flowers had begun to wilt a bit and Mr. Gregory’s smile now seemed wider and more fake. I was probably just reading too far into it, though. I am not the target audience for it and another look at Tabitha showed she was far from bothered about the expression change.
“You WILL be his friend!”
Mr.Gregory’s smile now took up half the page, his face the entirety of it. The pitch black of his pupils was surprising in contrast to just how white all the teeth in his smile were.
Tabitha clapped her hands excitedly and I smiled wearily at her, closing the book and setting it to the side. She hugged me and thanked me for story time and I set her back down.
The day continued on normally, save for the fact that Tabitha was still noticeably silent in her room. Every time I poked my head in, she was sitting in that armchair, holding her book in her lap. She would be turning a page gently or just staring down at Mr. Gregory’s sunny face.
When my husband got home, we all sat down to dinner and I told him how well my purchase went over. Tabitha did not pitch in. Now THAT was weird. We tried prodding her gently, asking for input on the book and she startled as if we had jerked her out of deep thought. Once I mentioned Mr. Gregory, she began nodding her head, black curls bouncing about her face.
“He’s my new friend!”
Jack and I shared a smile. The imagination on this one would never get old.
Bath time passed easily and quickly, following her hour of playtime after dinner. She was still quiet and I was getting concerned but also knew that sometimes kids had off days so I didn’t pry. Tabitha was pretty good about verbalizing when she did need something, her independent streak notwithstanding.
Tucking her into bed, I went to grab one of her many picture books suited for this time. Good Night, Moon had always been one of my favorites and despite disliking repetition in her books, it was also one of hers. When I sat at the edge of her bed with it, she whined and pointed at her new book, perched on top of her shelf. I was a little surprised but asked if she wanted that one instead. When she answered in the affirmative, I got up to swap out the books.
Puzzled, I ran my hand over it as I walked back. The cover felt…gross, less smooth than before. It wasn’t a huge difference, it honestly felt as though maybe Tabitha had eaten with it and spilled crud on the cover. That wasn’t possible, though, as I had been within eyesight of the kitchen and would have noticed her taking a snack. I scraped my thumbnail on the cover just a bit to see if I could remove any of the stuff staining the cover but no dice. Tabitha usually treated her stuff well, or at least as well as two-year-old could but even she is liable to make a mess at some point. Shrugging, I retook my seat and opened the book to again tell its story.
“‘Mr, Gregory needs a friend,’ he cried. Mr.Gregory has no friends!”
Confused, I brought the book closer to my face. The man in the top hat was still on the page, facing off stage left as he had been before. Now though, he was standing straighter and more confident. He still had the slight gut, surely to make kids think he was jolly, but his hands were now clasped in front of him as though he were waiting for something. I started to ask Tabitha if she noticed anything different, but her eyes were glued to the page. She shared none of my confusion so with my voice shaking a little, I carried on. It had been a long day. Maybe I was imagining things. I would take the book to Jack and show him my findings but as he had not seen the book before, I would be doing so in case more things started to change.
“Mr.Gregory wants a friend! He needs friends to be happy!”
Mr. Gregory still faced the front, smiling up at me but his eyes…he was looking up at me in what could only be described as menacing. Again, a check in with Tabitha but still, just that focused expression. Nothing on her face to show that she was also sharing in what I was now concerned was a delusion.
“Mr.Gregory has found a friend! YOU can be his friend!”
The flowers that had previously been wilted on the page now bloomed into life, bursting with color. The pages were covered and full of the tulips and daisies that now have shockingly more detail than before. Okay, this is ridiculous. I love old vintage books like this and I KNOW I would have remembered something as detailed as this. I would have waited till the story was over and posted a pic to instagram to show off my new find. I powered on, wanting the story done so I could take my concerns to my husband.
“You WILL be his friend!”
Mr.Gregory’s smile was not as happy as before. It seemed forced with his teeth clenched. Cracks were blossoming from the corners of his teeth and I thought idly of how much that would hurt, my own teeth aching.
Tabitha again clapped, happy with the story as if nothing had changed. I got up and started to leave the room when a shriek interrupted my departure.
“NO! NO TAKE BOOK!”
I jumped, the loud noise not being something I was even remotely prepared for.
“Tabitha! What is your problem?”
She shook her head and pointed to her bookshelf, indicating I should put it back where she had left it after her play time.
“I do not know why you are behaving this way but I am taking the book with me to show Daddy,” I softened my voice, trying to soothe the impending tantrum sure to come if I did not get her to sleep before long. “He didn’t get to see it earlier. Don’t you want Daddy to see it?”
She reluctantly nodded and laid her head back down where it had been previously. I said good night, telling her not to let the bed bugs bite before continuing to my own room.
Jack sat propped up in bed, his kindle in his hands as he read whatever novel he was currently working his way through.
I started my own nighttime process before hesitantly speaking.
“So, uh…the craziest thing happened.”
Jack looked up and motioned for me to continue.
“I went shopping this morning and found a book for Tabby and…I think it changed?” I tried to laugh to show that I thought it was ridiculous but it sounded forced even to me.
Jack put his kindle down, “I’m sorry, what now?”
I climbed into bed and handed him the book, “I know it sounds crazy but it was already kind of a weird book, you know? I read it to her this afternoon and thought it was just me being too much of an adult to understand but…I went back and read it to her for bedtime and I feel like the pictures have changed? Some small things but also one page is just completely covered in flowers where they had only been a few wilted before. I don’t know what’s happening and I’m a little worried. It has to be me, right? A book literally can’t change what’s inside it.”
He flipped through the book, reading the few lines inside it and set it to the side.
“Yeah, I mean it’s definitely weird. Seems too on the point but you can’t expect the writer to write like, The Odyssey for toddlers.”
“I know,” I sighed, “but I am worried that something is wrong with my head then.”
Jack shrugged, “See how you feel tomorrow. If you feel like something is still off, then make an appointment. Your mom can probably watch Tabitha like she did this morning. I wouldn’t worry too deeply about it. You’re probably just tired from your long day of shopping and dealing with Tabby.”
Laughing, I slapped his arm.
“I do more than that, rude, but I see your point. I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“Good,” he said, leaning over and kissing my cheek, “let me know what happens. I’m sure everything is fine.”
We relaxed in bed for a while, talking about our days and hypothesizing more and more ridiculous scenarios where the book was haunted or where it was in fact me that was haunted. The joking around put my mind at ease and I was able to fall into our easy pattern of television before sleep. I slept fully and comfortably but dreamt of a man on the outskirts of a foggy landscape, tapping his foot and checking a watch.
When I awoke, Tabitha was perched on my bed and I let out a small gasp. She handed me the book and tapped the cover before settling in between me and her father.
“You…want me to read this? Tab, what time is it? If Daddy’s not even awake, you better not have woken me up too early.”
I checked the clock and gasped. It was 8:30! Jack was supposed to be up and almost out the door at this time. I shook his shoulder and he groaned, swatting at my hand. Tabitha sat still between us, patiently waiting for her story.
“Jack, it’s 8:30! Get up!”
He sluggishly sat up and grumbled, “Yeah, whatever. Don’t be such a bitch.”
Tabitha’s and my mouth both dropped. Jack never spoke this way, not to me. Man could curse up a storm when stubbing his toe or when he burned his hand but never had this language been directed at me and certainly not in front of Tabitha.
“JACK.”
I crossed my arms, extremely upset about his attitude. I was not the one who was late and I was absolutely not the one who was going to bust my hump getting his rude butt out quicker.
He rubbed his face, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”
I huffed, “Well, you better figure it out and I expect a better apology later. Get dressed. Tabitha and I have a story to read.”
Tabitha wearily scooted closer to me, away from her father. He noticed the small gesture and his frown deepened before he heaved himself out of bed and to the bathroom. I wanted to wait until he was gone to read, telling Tabitha of our plans for the day. I had found a new ice cream shop online and I was planning on saving it for a special occasion. I hadn’t figured that the special occasion would be her father cursing at her mother in front of her for the first time.
Jack stood in the doorway, opening and closing his mouth before clearing his throat, “I’ll, uh, see you guys tonight, okay? I love you both and Jane, I really am sorry.”
I waved him off, returning the I love you while opening the book and pretending not to see him frown before he left the room. I heard the garage door open and shut and finally relaxed into my pillows.
“Let’s start our book then, huh?
Tabitha nodded eagerly and I began to once again read the four line book that now was beginning to seem like my child’s new favorite.
““Mr.Gregory needs a friend,’ he cried. Mr.Gregory has no friends!”
The man gazing off to the side was now more in the foreground, I was sure of it. A growing sense of unease filled me and I once again resolved to just power through before I dashed off to make a doctor’s appointment while Tabitha was eating breakfast.
“Mr.Gregory wants a friend! He needs friends to be happy!”
Mr. Gregory now held his wrist aloft, pointing at a watch with his forefinger.
“Mr.Gregory has found a friend! YOU can be his friend!”
He now held a bouquet of flowers, clearly picked from the garden behind him.
“You WILL be his friend, Jane!”
I shrieked and dropped the book. From the bed, Mr.Gregory’s smile was even more clenched, even more sinister. I clutched Tabitha to me and she began to squirm out of my hold, clearly more uncomfortable with my surprise python hug than any perceived changes in the book. I reached my foot out and kicked the book to the floor. Tabitha grunted in indignation as I did so, probably remembering the numerous times I have chastised her for being too rough with books.
“We aren’t reading that anymore, Tabby.”
She growled, attempting to launch herself to the book to retrieve it.
“I said, NO!”
Tabitha recoiled. Never in my life have I yelled at her. I grew up with a father who thought the only way to speak to your children was through screaming and I swore that I would never do so. Her eyes filled with tears and I immediately apologized.
“I’m so sorry, Tabby. Mommy got overwhelmed but we can’t read this book anymore, okay? I’m worried if we read it too much, the pages will tear. We don’t want that to happen, do we?”
She shook her quickly in agreement.
“Once per day is more than enough, okay? Let’s go get some food and then mommy needs to make a phone call.”
As she sat happily munching on her cheerios, I called my doctor and managed a last minute appointment two days from now. Calling my mother to request her services watching Tabitha did not go as well however. She was swamped and unable to make it. I was going to have to ask Jack to stay home from work and after his outburst this morning, I was less than pleased to have to make that call but I did so. He sounded weary and irritated that I would call and shortly agreed after asking why he had to suffer for my issues. This had never been his manner of speaking to me and I was struck dumb when he asked to the point where I could only manage silence. He sighed before agreeing to tell his boss he would not be in and hung up with only a “uh-huh” when I mechanically said I love you, as is our standard goodbye.
The day passed on as normally as possible, considering the messed up state of my relationship. Literally less than 24 hours ago I had laid next to Jack while he comforted me and joked around about me being haunted and now here he was, acting like a fool possessed.
When Tabitha laid down for her nap, I crept my way back to the bedroom and picked the book up from the floor before sitting down to reluctantly read it and see if it had changed.
“‘Mr.Gregory needs a friend,’ he cried. Mr.Gregory has no friends!”
The man now stood pouting in honestly, what seemed like a manipulative stance as he exaggerated just how lonely he was.
“Mr.Gregory knows who doesn’t need a friend! Jack has too many friends!”
Mr.Gregory now faced directly to the front, behind him a picture of Jack embracing a woman and burying his face in her neck.
“Mr.Gregory has found a friend! YOU can be his friend! Jack no longer wants you as a friend!”
The flowers blooming around Mr. Gregory now also surrounded a crude drawing of Jack kissing this mystery woman while a sad drawing of me stood off to the side.
“You WILL be his friend, Jane! Mr. Gregory knows you’re already most of the way there!”
Mr.Gregory’s smile had now begun to bleed and seep. His eyes were bright and alive and I felt as though they were actually looking at me, measuring my reaction.
I cringed and placed the book back down before I had a light bulb moment. I should have looked at the author long ago and tried to google them. Nothing leaves the internet and I was sure there were people dedicated to old books like this. Besides that, if it wasn’t just a me problem, maybe there was a forum somewhere about this book.
I scoured everything in the precious time I had before Tabitha woke up. I came up with nothing. I searched google, old book registries, even reddit for any combination of words that would give me a hit. There was nothing. It wasn’t the most unexpected thing, with how old the book appeared to be but I had really hoped that there was something, even a scrap of info.
Tabitha awoke around three and I let her play in her room as I nursed a glass of wine. This was either a supernatural issue or I was losing it. Either way, the book knows something or my subconscious does and I was now analyzing Jack’s previous behavior to see if there were any signs of an affair. He always came home on time, he didn’t have business trips anywhere, not since we had been married. He didn’t shy away from affection, though our intimacy had taken a hit since Tabitha came around. Maybe…maybe he did find someone else. Someone younger who hadn’t had their body changed by childbirth. Jack always said he loved my post-baby body, loved seeing the signs that I had carried our child and did the hard work to nurture her. But maybe something inside him changed. Maybe I wasn’t crazy. Maybe the book was right.
At dinner time, I prepared food for all three of us but had Tabitha and I eat before Jack got home. I did her routine early and got her to bed, reminding her of our agreement to not read the book more than once to preserve it. Once she was safely wrapped in her blanket and off to dream whatever it is children do, I gathered my blanket and essentials, encasing myself in the guest room.
Jack opened the door, probably puzzled when he couldn’t find me. Seeing me laying on the guest bed, focusing on acting unaffected at all by his presence, he rolled his eyes and shut the door before I heard him stomping off to what was once our marital bed. The door shut just quieter than a slam and it was silent.
I had brought Mr. Gregory with me and while I didn’t open it, I placed it beneath my pillow to make sure Tabitha couldn’t surprise me with it again. I concentrated on falling asleep, images of Jack with a faceless woman dancing in my head. Tonight was the first night he had come home hours late. I had expected that he would walk in mid-bath or something but I was able to fully do all of our usual rituals without interruption. Tears streamed down my face before I was able to once again fall into a surprisingly comfortable sleep.
The man was back, closer now than before. His foot was no longer tapping, his hands were in his pockets. I watched him stand there, feeling fear and…excitement? I sat in this limbo until I awoke naturally, unaware of where I was at first before I remembered the soul crushing day before.
Lugging my tired body out of bed, I found Tabitha at the kitchen table with a man that I had never seen before, at least not in person. He had a top hat and spats, his cane set gently atop the table as Tabitha chatted more than I had heard from her in the past two days. She was telling him about her grandmother in between bites and when I saw the scene, I flew at her gathering her in my arms. She grunted and wiggled, while the man looked nonplussed at my alarm.
“Who are you?” I demanded, backing away from him.
He just smiled and gestured to the book which had been snatched from my pillow at some point in the night.
“Daddy!” Tabitha giggled, reaching out to him. I nearly dropped her in shock but managed to tighten my arms instead.
“Where’s Jack?!” Another demand that was only met by a raised eyebrow. This man was not impressed with me at all and I was terrified of what he was going to do. He stood, stretching as he did so and a waft of old book smell permeated my nose.
He stepped forward and began to speak, his voice deep and almost echoey at the same time, seeming to reach only me and somehow also every corner of the room.
“Why, I’m Mr. Gregory, of course! And you’re Jane! And she’s Tabitha!”
I shakily backed away but he matched me step for step, continuing on.
“I have watched you, Jane. So sad. You work so hard for your family and what do you get? A philandering husband who doesn’t appreciate you. You do more than shop and take care of Tabitha, Jane. You are making a difference, molding a young mind and I want to help you do so. Jack doesn’t know how to help. He only knows how to hurt. Think of how he spoke to you. Think of him with that other woman, forsaking his own family, his wife who carried the beautiful miracle you now hold in your arms.”
We didn’t often talk about how hard we had wished for Tabby, how my fertility had struggled and taken hit after hit. Jack said it only made him love me more once I was able to finally conceive.
“He lied, Jane. He lied to you. He was looking elsewhere, tired of your sickness and inability to reproduce. He had decided mid-pregnancy he never actually wanted children, he just liked the practice, if you catch my drift.”
I shuddered, not wanting to believe his cruel words but hadn’t that always been my fear? My insecurities from my father rearing their ugly head in the quiet parts of my day?
“I appreciate you, Jane. I know you work hard and I know what a blessing Tabitha is,” he grows closer, “that’s why I took care of Jack for you.”
My stomach clenches and I hold Tabitha tighter, “What did you do?”
“What was necessary. Now you don’t have to worry and now we’ll both have a friend forever.”
In my shock, he is able to reach over and pluck Tabitha from my arms. She goes right to him and snuggles in. Mr. Gregory then begins to tell her about how their day is going to go, what mommy will cook for dinner and how much he loves her. I cannot argue. I cannot begin to snatch my most prized person from him. I just sit and wait for instructions. I wait for him to tell me it is time to get up and get to work. He tells me to read, surf the internet, take some time for myself and it is more than Jack has done in a while, I am sure of it. He plays with Tabby and reads books to her but his book is not brought out again. Why would she need it, when he’s right here?
Mr. Gregory has found a friend.