Chapter 14

The exorcism tape was all Nick thought about during school. He wanted—no needed—to listen. His mind conjured up all kinds of scenarios and images. Were any of the visions from the actual event or just his overactive imagination? Would his mother find the tape? He willed the school day to fly by so he could get home.

Once at home, he confronted his mother. “Do you have it?”

She didn’t ask what; she only drew out a rectangular object from her pocket and handed it to him.

The cassette tape, still warm from her pocket, wasn’t unusual looking except for the date when he was a little kid.

“We have an old cassette player in the garage you can use,” his father said. “But are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “I just need answers. I want to understand what’s happening to me.”

“I bet it was a concussion when you fell out of the tree,” his father said. “Or from football. They’re doing a lot of research on how concussions can affect the brain.”

Nick mumbled, “Yeah, maybe.” But somehow he knew that wasn’t the case.

He took the tape from his mother and went to the garage to find the tape player. Once back in his room, he dusted it off and set it on his desk.

Should he listen? He was a mass of contradictions. He wanted to, yet he didn’t.

Nick took a deep breath, fit the tape into the machine, and hit Play on the antiquated recorder. He strained forward to hear his four-year-old voice, high-pitched with a slight lisp because of a loose tooth. He turned up the volume as high as it would go. Minnie entered his bedroom, mewing at the strange sounds, and Nick reached down and lifted her to his lap, stroking her silky fur as he continued to listen. He began to remember it all as if it had happened yesterday, every bit.

He was sitting in a darkened church with flickering candles highlighting a picture of the crucified Jesus. The man, wearing a robe, told him he’d feel better when they finished. The distinct smell of the candles seemed to waft out of the recorder and into his bedroom.

“Do you know what we’re doing today, Nicholas?”

“Mon nom est Jean Claude.” Nick put his hand over his mouth. He remembered! Nick continued listening as Father Samuel talked.

“I ask our dear Lord and Savior to make powerless the wicked and godless influences in Nick’s life and pluck the evil eye from his soul. Where there was once bad, replace it with goodness and charity. Please guide Nick in your ways of goodness and not let him be poisoned by the dark forces of evil. May he be under your protection and know that you are his salvation and strength.”

Then there was silence. The tape crackled. Is that it? Wait.

“How do you feel, Nick?” Father Samuel was talking.

“Okay.” Nick heard himself answer.

The words stopped, and the tape whirled soundlessly, but Nick continued listening, tensing his jaw muscles even though the recording was clearly over. Minnie struggled to get out of his arms, so he let her jump to the floor. He reached to turn off the tape player and saw the deep gashes Minnie had scratched into his arm. Nick switched off the tape player when his mother stepped into his room. He heard her light footsteps but didn’t turn to her immediately, giving his jumbled thoughts a chance to settle.

“You were listening?” he asked, rewinding the tape, hearing the whirl and click when it finished.

“Yes,” she said, frowning at Minnie’s scratches.

“I guess I held Minnie too tight.”

They were quiet. Minnie meowed quietly for his mother’s attention.

“I don’t remember a thing,” he lied.

His mother came around to face him. “You’re crying, Nick,” she said, touching his face lightly.

“I’m crying for that little boy.” He swiped at his wet cheeks.

“That little boy was you.” Her words a soft whisper.

“I know.” His words were quiet, then stronger he said, “I don’t remember those things—I don’t remember that war.” But the smoke from those long-ago candles remained in his nostrils.

“It was long before you were born.” His mother smoothed his hair. “I wasn’t even born yet,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed with a creak and rustle.

“Then why would I say those things?”

“I don’t know,” his mother said with a sigh. She pulled a folded piece of pink paper from her pocket. “I found this. Your kindergarten progress report.” She read: “ ‘Nicholas has a great imagination and good verbal skills. He has shared French with us, and his imaginary friend, John. He’s a pleasure to have in class.’ ”

Nick sat quietly. “Am I going crazy?”

“Of course not.”

“But that tape and now the report card?” He spread his arms helplessly. “What does it mean?”

“Your father and I think it might be good to have you see a psychologist or a counselor.”

“So you do think I’m crazy?”

“I think your mind is playing tricks on you.”

She got up, gave him a hug, and left the room.

He picked up his phone. There was only one person who could help him sort this out. He found her number and called. There was no answer, only the breezy greeting: “I’m busy and will get back to you!”

“It’s Nick. Call me.”

He set his phone down, and it immediately vibrated. He looked at the caller ID. Emily. He blew out a long breath before answering. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“Homework,” he lied.

“Me too.”

He heard a beep. Cat returning his call. “Can I call you back?”

“Who’s calling you?”

“Cat.”

“Fine! Talk to her!”

“Em. Don’t be like that. I want a good grade, and she’s my partner.”

“Is that all?”

“It is. I’ll call you later.”

“Sure.”

He switched callers. “Hey! Thanks for calling back.”

“You sounded serious.”

“I guess it is.”

“What’s wrong?”

He let out a ragged breath. “Remember I told you my parents had me exorcised when I was a kid because I told them I was a French soldier named Jean Claude.”

He let the words sink in, and she remained quiet.

“They taped the session between me and the priest.”

“So what do you believe now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “It’s crazy. Am I crazy?”

“No, if you’re crazy, then I am. We’ll be crazy together.”