Page 29 of Whistle
Shortly after midnight, he saw himself on the front porch, in the middle of the day, polishing the wheels on his bicycle, when someone came walking up the driveway. At first the man’s features were vague and ill-defined, but as he got closer, Charlie could see that it was his father.
“Hi, Charlie,” said John.
Charlie came down the porch steps and said, “Hi, Dad. It sure is good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too. I’ve missed ya.”
Charlie was surprised he hadn’t burst into tears. But it was like his dad had never actually died. He’d just been away for a while.
“Mom’s going to be happy to see you.”
“Oh, I bet, but it’s you I’ve come to see,” John said. “I’ve come to help you with something. Toshowyou something.”
“What?”
“May I come inside?”
Charlie nodded and led his father into the house.
“Let’s go to the basement,” John said.
Charlie noticed that he made no noise when he walked. It was almost like he was floating. Charlie opened the door that led to the cellar, turned on the light, and went down the steps, his father following closely behind.
“There’s nothing down here,” Charlie said. “I looked the first day.”
“You missed something.”
“What?”
His father led him over to the workbench and opened the drawer that Charlie had inspected before. The one filled with old nails and rusted pipe fittings.
“Have a look in there again.”
Charlie moved around the various pieces of metal junk with his fingers until he saw something he had not seen before. He picked it up.
“What do we have there?” John asked.
“It’s a key,” Charlie said.
And just like that, his father was gone. There wasn’t even a poof of smoke. He was there one second, and gone the next.
That was when Charlie woke up.
At first he wondered if he’d been sleepwalking, and really hadhad a visit from his father. But Charlie was right in his bed. Then again, he could have sleepwalked his way back to his room, slipped under the covers.
He blinked a few times, rolled onto his side, and looked at the digital clock: 12:35 a.m. Charlie usually slept through the night, waking up around eight. But right now he felt every bit as awake as he would have when the sun was up.
He slipped out of bed, kept his pajamas on but pulled on his running shoes and laced them up. The house was dark except for slivers of moonlight streaming through the windows. He didn’t want to turn on any lights for fear it might wake his mother. But he also needed to see where he was going. He crept quietly into his mother’s bedroom. She wasn’t snoring, but he could hear deep breathing, so he knew she was asleep. He tiptoed to her bedside and unplugged her phone from the charging cord, and, when he was back in the hallway, brought up the flashlight app.
Charlie descended the stairs and rounded the corner to the door that led down to the basement, shining the light ahead of him. Once he was atop the first step and had the door closed behind him, it was safe to flick on a light.
Even with the bare bulb illuminated, and the room largely deserted, the basement was not a place where he felt at ease. A little chill ran up his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when he reached the floor, although it might have been that Charlie was more excited than frightened.
Charlie walked over to the workbench, pulled out the drawer, and dug his fingers into the mix of rusty nails and pipe clamps and screws of varying sizes until he felt something small, smooth, and thin.
A key.
He grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger, lifted it out ofthe drawer, and brought it up to his nose for a closer inspection. It sure looked like a key that would open a padlock. Like the one on the shed door.
