I was completely sure I had felt a zipper on that cat's stomach.
But Tommy was settling back into his armchair, his coffee cup and saucer close to his chest. Heather sipped her's next to me, then cleared her throat. "So, we were hoping we could talk to you about the events of 1980."
"1980," Tommy repeated, grinning that same manic grin. "A great year. Shame about Lennon though. My parents loved the Beatles." Heather paused. She, like me, probably couldn't tell if the strange man was joking. That is, until he let out a high-pitched, frantic giggle of a laugh. His body convulsed and his cup teetered on the china. Though this was disturbing to say the least, Heather and I both were able to work up a nervous laugh.
Tommy's cackling subsided, and he wiped an invisible tear from the corner of his eye. "I'm kidding, of course. Just a little joke." He regained his composure. "You want to know about July of 1980. What happened with me and the others, those three days, right here in Rhodes' Creek." He took another sip of coffee, and I felt myself subconsciously lean forward with anticipation. "You've read the reports, no doubt. You know what happened."
"We know what you said happened," I said, and Heather gave me a nudge. I didn't know where this sudden brashness came from. It was like the closer I felt I was to answers, the more forcefully I was willing to reach for them.
The switch-like transition came again, and Tommy's face dropped once more to a deep frown. "I don't like what you're suggesting, Mr. Singer," he said in a quiet, stern voice I hadn't heard him use. I opened my mouth to apologize, but before I could, he spoke again.
"But, you're right."
I blinked in surprise. "I am?"
Tommy solemnly nodded. "You are." Another torturously slow sip of coffee. At this point, Heather and I were on the edge of our seats on the sewn-up sofa.
"We told the police we had been lost in the woods, but that wasn't exact...true. The truth is," he paused. "I have no memory of where I was for those three days. None of us did."
The was a shock. Apart from the incredibly validating feeling of discovering that I had been right, that the report hadn't been accurate, I felt something else-- doubt. It seemed all too easy to loosen Tommy's lips. After all, this was a lie he had maintained for thirty years. Why break his story now? And why to Heather and me?
"But why lie?" Heather asked, her brow furrowed.
"I'm not quite sure that I did," He paused. "We woke up on the outskirts of the woods, with no idea that any time had passed from when we were playing together three days prior. We walked back to my house and found the place surrounded by police. I learned my dear parents were in custody for something they obviously hadn't done." Tommy shook his head. "I begged the others, before we went to the police station, to tell the story about getting lost. I didn't want any suspicion put upon my family. And, they agreed."
He took another long sip of coffee, then smiled at Heather and me. Even though I hadn't trusted the smile before, I definitely didn't now. He seemed different, somehow. He had been confident when he had found us out front, but he seemed nervous now that we were in the house and he had said his piece. He was tapping his long fingers against the side of his cup, and slightly rocking back and forth. I was surprised none of the coffee sloshed over the side.
"Wow," Heather started, "that's..." she trailed off, and I didn't blame her.
"It's quite a story," I finished for her.
"Yes, well," Tommy began, rather hastily. "We may never get the full story. Such is life." His intense blue eyes weren't looking at Heather and I anymore. Instead, they were scanning the flat white cieling above us.
I tried to inconspicuously look as well, but I couldn't see whatever it was that had his attention.
"So none of you ever remembered anything, or tried to figure it out? The others didn't want to know?" Heather asked incredulously.
"It seemed like the sort of thing that was best to be left alone," Tommy said, eyes still turned upwards. I could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip. "there are things... things that require no explanation. Things that just are." He visibly swallowed. "Things that---"
We all jumped. There was a sound, a series of sounds, that broke the silence of the house. Three sharp, distinct knocks, coming from directly above us.
Tommy immediately jumped to his feet. "Oh," he said frantically, "Probably the cat. It likes to get into all sort of trouble."
I shuddered at the reminder of the cat. Tommy placed his cup and saucer on the nearest doily-covered table next to his armchair. "I'd better go make sure it hasn't broken anything valuable." Tommy had left the room before we could respond.
Heather and I sat on the sofa in silence as we heard his hastened footsteps fade. Then, she turned to me. "I don't buy it."
I shook my head. "Me neither."
"'I don't remember' is pretty convenient," she said, then stood up. She started walking towards the doorway.
"What are you doing?" I hissed.
"It's a big house. We probably can snoop around the next room while he looks for his cat."
My nausea increased. "I don't think we should. This place is really creeping me out." I paused. "And that cat..." I considered bringing up what I thought I had felt on the cat's stomach, but decided against it. It was probably just my imagination.
Heather laughed. "What, are you afraid of cats now, too? You're not much of an intrepid reporter, Sam. Why would you even choose to pick up the Bad Habits column if you get freaked out so easily?" She had a point. Before I could retaliate, she took a step back to turn to the doorway, and her foot caught on the edge of Tommy's armchair. Her stumbled jostled the side table, knocking Tommy's cup of coffee off its saucer and onto the armchair, ruining the cream upholstery.
Except it didn't.
Heather quickly picked up the cup, try to minimize the spread of the stain-- only, there wasn't one. She looked into the cup, frowning. Then, she wordlessly tilted it towards me.
It was a prop. A ceramic cup filled with dark roast-colored plastic. A fake cup of coffee that Tommy McAfee had been pretending to sip for the entirety of our conversation.
Heather and I met eyes.
I sighed.
"Let's go check out the next room."
---
Credits
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