NOVEL NEXT Chapter 52: Isaac Lives On
[March 1, 2043]
The apartment front desk had ordained Cal as a visitor after confirming with a short phone call, then asked him to press his finger to a small black screen that was built into the desk of dark wood.
"This will overlay a digital signature on the thumb," explained the smiling receptionist to Cal, who was studying the contraption with confusion as he obeyed her instructions. She had clearly caught on that this young student dressed in baggy clothes was out of place in the ornate reception hall, which was equipped with plush chairs, a chandelier, and a built-in bar. "Think of it as a replacement for the old-fashioned micro-chip key fobs. There will be an identical screen beside Mr. Frost's door that you will press your finger to, and the door will open, as long as Mr. Frost hasn't forgotten to enable visitor settings. You've never seen this system before?"
"No," said Cal, as he and Mel both leaned in closer to study his thumb, as if they were expecting to see a QR code engraved on the skin. "But I grew up in a pretty isolated place."
"Technology is wild these days," breathed Mel, who was floating by his ear, having plenty of space to maneuver in the large reception hall.
"Ah, well, that makes sense," said the receptionist, replying to Cal's statement. She was still smiling, in a practiced but not insincere way. "We only adopted this system less than ten years ago. I know some hotels and housing complexes in rural areas still use fobs or card-swipes for their doors, or even physical keys. It's hard to adapt to new technologies when the establishment doesn't have sufficient infrastructure."
She extended her hand and tilted the palm. "The elevators are down the hall. You're looking for the sixtieth floor, room 60012."
"Thank you," said Cal, a little awkwardly, beginning to feel out of place as another visitor in an expensive suit lined up behind him.
"Six hundred and twelve. Six hundred and twelve," repeated Mel to herself, floating up towards the ceiling. "Meet you there."
"Have a good day, sir."
"Thank you, you too."
The elevator ride took around a minute and a half, stopping once on the forty-eighth floor to allow the entrance of a heavy-set man in a brown suit and yellow sunglasses. Cal stepped off on the sixtieth onto a shining tiled hallway decorated with potted plants, turning left until he reached room 60012, which was conveniently marked by Mel floating next to it. He stood in front of the black lacquered door for a few moments, flexing his fingers, still cold from the outside wind, then turned to Mel. "I'm going to knock. I don't want to just let myself in."
"Okay," Mel said, a little shortly. Her confidence from a few minutes ago had vanished, and she looked a little clammy. "Don't drag it out. Knock."
Cal knocked.
It only took a few moments for the door to swing open and reveal the lanky frame of Isaac Frost. He wore a simple white dress shirt that folded slightly inward around his stomach, where the shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of brown slacks. He smiled once he saw Cal, brushing back his dark curly hair away from his forehead, but as always, there was a weariness in his face, present around his blue eyes and the sharp lines of his cheekbones.
"Hello, Cal," he said, gesturing with his hand for Cal to step into the apartment. "Sorry for calling you all the way over here from the accommodation, but I couldn't really get away."
"That's okay," replied Cal as he walked inside. The spacious apartment could be more specifically defined as a suite of connected rooms, all decorated lavishly but simply — a testament to the light colors and appealing geometry of modern interior design. "Besides, it seemed important enough to come over in person."
He had stepped into a large living room with a couch and a wide television, bordered on one side by a kitchen (accented by marble countertops and smart-looking stainless-steel cabinets) and a walk-in pantry. On the other side was a set of dark oak doors, which presumably led to the other side of the living room or a bedroom. There were blown-up photographs hanging on the walls with lacquered frames, depictions of empty city streets or the interiors of apparently abandoned buildings. A tank of water sat gurgling quietly in one corner, housing two reddish-orange fish.
Mel remained where she was, even as Isaac shut the door and left only her head peering into the room, an expression of incredulity on her face, as if seeing her brother existing in a space unfamiliar to her had brought a great shock to her nerves. Cal glanced behind him, worried, but as he couldn't talk to her directly to ask her what was wrong, he instead walked further into the room, trying to avoid the encroaching grey carpet with his damp shoes.
"Can I get you anything?" asked Isaac, bustling past Cal like he was in a hurry. "Want some coffee? I know it's falling out of favor with young people nowadays, but I'm afraid I don't have a lot of hot beverages stocked at the moment."
"T-that's alright," stammered Cal, feeling increasingly out of place in another person's home. He hung up his coat by the door. "I don't really drink coffee."
"Is that right?" Isaac frowned, walking into the kitchen space despite Cal's refusal. "Hmm, alright, how about some hot chocolate? It must have been cold getting here. Did you take the bus? Oh, come further in and sit on the couch. Don't worry about the carpet. It's a self-cleaning model."
"N-no, I walked," Cal glanced again at the still stationary Mel, who was now watching him with an ambivalent expression. Then, he obeyed Isaac's instructions and sat on the plush living room couch, trying not to bump into the shin-high glass coffee table where a turned-off laptop was resting. "It was only about thirty minutes."
Isaac whistled, pouring milk into a ceramic mug decorated with the black blocky words FUTURE IS WIZARD. "That's still quite a hike, and not one just anyone would take. Public transit is so convenient in the city that most people just use it for everything. Do you know the roads that cut through the old district, the ones built in the last century to accommodate the traffic from the new model cars? The municipal government is planning to pave them over with brick and just turn the square into a larger plaza." Isaac placed the mug in the microwave and set a timer for sixty seconds. His words were polite and conversational, if somewhat aloof, but Cal could detect an underlying anxiety present, as if Isaac were speaking only to avoid the more pressing issue. "I can appreciate a stroll, Cal, but be conscientious about your health. The wind coming off the bay and the channel is no pushover."
"Yes, sir."
Isaac shot Cal a thoughtful glance, adjusting the glasses that were sliding down his nose as he leaned his head forward. Then his gaze followed Cal's for a moment, to the space where Mel was floating. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"It's alright, I'm nervous too." The microwave alarm went off, but instead, Isaac crossed the space with long strides and knocked tentatively on the dark oak door. "I'm coming in."
Isaac opened the set of doors a bit, which both slid outward instead of swinging on a hinge. He stuck his head in, apparently having a hushed conversation with someone on the other side. Then he closed the doors again. "My mother woke up. Sorry to spring this on you, but she'll probably want to talk about what you found as well. I didn't want to tell her anything until I knew for sure there was no mistake-"
"Ah!" Mel made an inadvertent sound, launching herself further into the room as if an air cannon had gone off, panic swimming in her blue eyes.
"I-" Cal couldn't help interrupting Isaac, which prompted a surprised stare from the older man. "I'm… not sure that's a good idea."
There was a long pause. Isaac regarded Cal coolly for a moment as the alarm for the microwave went off again. For the first time, there was discomfort in the air. However, as if to intentionally break the tension, he turned and opened the microwave door, then handed Cal the steaming hot chocolate by the handle. Then he returned to his place by the marble counter of the kitchen.
"Why do you say that?" he said finally. "If you have really found something of Mel's, then I think my mother would want to know about it."
Cal swallowed, surprised by how unsteady he felt in this situation, but a small squeeze on his shoulder by Mel reignited his composure. "I didn't mean it like that, sir. It's only… I believe this was something Mel intended for your eyes only. Obviously, it's up to you what to do with that knowledge, but at the very least, I think this letter is something you should see first."
Isaac tapped the marble countertop once. He didn't seem irritated, only a little strained. "Respectfully, Cal, how would you know that? You told me in the texts you sent that you hadn't read this letter of Mel's that you apparently discovered."
"I didn't…" In his head, Cal was having a hard time dividing the truth of what had occurred from the story that he and Mel had cooked up to explain the presence of the letter. "But I did glance over the letter briefly when I first discovered it — um, because I didn't know what it was — so I have an idea of the general contents. And…"
"And from that, you have the idea that it is something for me only?"
Cal nodded. "That's right."
This was partially true. Cal hadn't been lying to Mel before when he had stated he hadn't read the letter, but it was true that he had a general idea of its contents from the times he had spoken to Mel about it, or the instances when he had watched her write it, bent in concentration over the table in the corner of room 01. However, this assertion was also coming from the time he had seen the letter's postscript. He truly hadn't meant to, but when Mel had handed him the letter for safe-keeping, she had done so with the contents turned upwards, which allowed Cal to discern things like its length and formatting. And, despite himself, in the moment before he reached his hand forward to press the letter into his pocket, he had seen the postscript, easy to read on its island of white space, tucked below the rest of the words.
It had said only: P.S. Please, don't tell Mom. She won't understand.
Isaac leaned his elbows on the marble counter, letting out a sigh. He seemed incredulous at the events that were unfolding.
"Please, bro," said Mel softly. She was floating slightly closer to him, as if she intended to tap his shoulder. "It's in my character. You know that."
"Alright," said Isaac, in a tone that seemed to indicate there was nothing more to add regarding the previous conversation topic. "Can you please go over again how you found this letter from Mel? I know you explained in your texts, but I'd like to hear it again. "
"Don't overcomplicate it," said Mel. She was still staring at her brother, as though her words were intended for him.
"There's not much to tell," shrugged Cal, attempting to feign serenity, even as a bead of sweat nestled in the swell of his neck bone. "As you know, I took up room 01 in Otter Manor. One day, I was standing on my bed because I wanted to dust the topside of the window frames, where the blinds are hanging from. I saw a small depression at the tip of one of the wooden planks that make up the ceiling of the room, and when I touched it out of curiosity, I noticed that I could actually lift it. The corners on that side of the board hadn't been affixed. When I did, I saw a piece of paper sticking out, placed in the little bit of space between the boards and the foundation. It was barely discernible. I almost didn't see it."
He took a breath. "Anyway, I took it out and looked over it. Once I realized what the letter was and who it was from, I texted you. It… seemed the right thing to do. I remembered that you talked about Mel before with me once, so it sort of pinged in my brain. But admittedly, it took me a few minutes to piece it all together."
Isaac gripped the edge of the marble counter with his fingers aggressively, his eyes looking downward, revealing nothing. "In the ceiling boards? That's where you found this letter?"
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"Um… yes." Cal swallowed, positive that Isaac was about to point out some damning discrepancy in his story, although the story of him discovering the loose board was completely true, with only the letter being a fictional addition.
Instead, Isaac shook his head sadly, a bitterness entering his tone. "How many times did I visit the old family manor before the reconstruction? I can't believe I could have possibly missed something this important. I mean… Mel's old room… I've been in there hundreds…"
He stopped, despair entering his voice, which emboldened Cal to jump back in. "Sir, please, I wasn't exaggerating. You could only see the corner of the letter in that small, dark place. Frankly, it's lucky I saw it at all. So it isn't something to blame yourself for."
Isaac closed his eyes for a moment and adjusted the sleeves of his white shirt. "Thank you, Cal. However, I'll likely still be punching myself for this oversight. It's just so incredible." He outstretched his pale hand. "May I see the letter?"
"Oh, yes! Of course!" Cal reached into the pocket of his pants and withdrew the folded letter from where he had placed it after taking off his coat at the apartment entrance. "It's a little damaged and creased, sorry. But that's the way I found it."
"That's fine," came Isaac's patient voice. "As long as it's legible. That's what is most important."
Trying not to shake, Cal extended his arm and placed the yellow-rimmed paper in Isaac's hands. Instead of unfolding it and reading it, Isaac placed the letter next to him on the counter and stared at it like he was examining a foreign organism he couldn't understand. His blue eyes narrowed with concentration, seemingly accented with silver underneath the glass Art Deco lights that hung above the kitchen.
"It's the same…" Mel's voice was forceful. She floated next to Isaac's arm, as if she were trying to push her intent through the barrier of life and death. "Isaac, it's the same… You know it is. The same type of paper that I had in my diary. It even has the identical flower decoration at the top of the page. Open it up and see. It's me, bro. It's me."
Her lips quivered. "It's me. I'm right here."
Isaac didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head as a loud noise came from the other room, like an object had been thrown against the door. He sighed, then turned back to Cal. "My mother wants the doors to be opened. Please excuse her — she's been on oxygen for a long time, and it's putting a lot of stress on her. She'll probably want to ask you some questions."
Cal nodded, unsure how to react to this new development, though Mel froze again and shook her head, as if trying to communicate to her brother that this was not something she wanted. Isaac, of course, didn't see her. He stood, pocketed the letter, walked through Mel, and slid open the doors.
As Cal had guessed, another living room was revealed, though this one had a bed at the far end. It also turned to the right, meaning there was more he couldn't see from where he was sitting — probably other rooms or a hallway. In the center sat a woman with a bent back and white hair, her frail, wrinkled skin blotched with spots of discoloration, both dark and red. Her small eyes squinted at Cal suspiciously, and he felt he detected hatred in them, as absurd as that seemed. However, he felt himself more distracted by the chair the woman was strapped into, a sort of bulky medical apparatus that supported her small frame and had small tubes snaking over the armrests. Some of these tubes went into the woman's nose, while others extended from the woman's hip and thighs, going into the back of the chair for a purpose Cal could only guess at.
"Oh, mom…" whispered Mel, her entire body sagging listlessly. "Mom, why aren't you standing?"
"Cal, this is my mother, Ms. Evelina Frost," said Isaac, in a practiced sort of way. "Mother, this young man is Pascal Clermont. He's the caretaker at father's old mansion, remember? The student from the university. I told you about him. He's here to clarify some logistical details with me."
"I remember," came Ms. Frost's sharp voice. "Do you think I don't remember?"
"No, I didn't say that," said Isaac. He hunched over and picked up something that Cal couldn't see from the ground. "I just wanted to remind you, since you're meeting him for the first time."
"Be quiet!" she said, her voice loud enough that it almost qualified as a shout. "Do you think I don't remember?"
"No, mother."
"You," she suddenly turned her head at Cal and jutted a finger at him, which was so aggressive it almost made Cal jump. "You're the caretaker."
"Y-yes ma'am."
"You're not dressed like one."
Cal could feel his mouth getting dry. "It's… it's not a position with a specific uniform, because I need to attend school most days. Sometimes I'll put on an apron if I'm cleaning or cooking something."
She snorted. "An apron? What are you? A sissy maid?"
Cal looked at Ms. Frost with wide eyes, completely taken aback and unsure how to react. Between Cal and the doors, Mel floated a little closer to her mother, though she seemed scared to cross the threshold of the two rooms.
Sensing trouble, Isaac jumped in for support. "It's only an honorary title, mother. Cal is more like an RA for the tenants who stay in the accommodation. I hired him to act as a liaison for the tenants and as a general overseer for the manor. Remember, he's doing household work while also attending school, so the responsibilities aren't all-encompassing. I leave the lawn-work to the usual contractors, for instance."
"An RA?"
"Yes, that's right, mother."
"You go to the city's university?" Ms. Frost was addressing Cal again, her questions coming thick and fast. "For what sort of major?"
"I do. My major is Environmental Engineering and Applied Mathematics."
The old woman squinted at Cal again, seemingly displeased by his answer somehow. "Is that right?"
"Yes. I know that's a little obtuse. What it means in actuality-"
"I know what it means!" Ms. Frost snapped at him. "You want to design windmills and dams and solar panels and that sort of thing?"
Cal held his tongue, deciding against pedantically correcting her. "Well, more or less, yes. Actually, this semester-"
She cut him off. "Why do you want to do something like that?"
He shook his head, not comprehending. "What?"
"Why do you want to do something like that?" she repeated. "There are other things to do, like business or acquiring some entrepreneurial skills. Technology. We're in a new age of technology."
Cal could feel the entire Frost family's eyes on him, Mel's included. "I…" He felt put on the spot, and he didn't like the way the old woman's gaze was burning into him. "My father was an engineer. I became interested in it as a way to feel closer to him."
Ms. Frost sniffed, the tip of her nose twitching. "Hmm."
The questions kept coming for a number of minutes, increasingly awkward and intrusive. Mel continued staring at her mother blankly, a glaze increasingly coming over her eyes, like she was actively dissociating from the situation. Cal wanted to speak to the ghost and make sure that she wasn't having some sort of episode, but he couldn't concentrate with Ms. Frost constantly pressuring him. Eventually, with a disgusted "I can't do this anymore" spoken under her breath, Mel floated up into the ceiling to recuperate. After Isaac excused himself to use the restroom, Cal was left truly alone with the old woman, who bent a finger in his direction, gesturing for him to come closer.
Cal didn't want to come closer, but afraid of drawing any more of Ms. Frost's ire, he stepped into the other living room. "Yes?"
"You can't fool me," Ms. Frost hissed, her lips moving in a chewing motion even though she had nothing in her mouth. "You can't fool me, I'm too sharp."
Cal's blood froze. "What?"
"I know why you're really here," she said, her mouth twitching into a leering smile. "You think you can come in here looking the way you do, hair and clothes all a mess, and don't expect me to know your intentions. You're stupid!"
Cal's body twitched, like an involuntary reaction. He was being gripped by the most horrible form of nostalgia, which was making him panic slightly. "I… I'm sorry, ma'am, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're stealing!" She pointed a bony finger at him with a jerk. A tube that was attached to her arm came loose, and a few drops of some greenish liquid began to drip from the end, hitting the carpet. "You're here to steal! So you've cleaned out my husband's old house, and now you're here to claim what you can from my son's!"
Cal took a step back. "I've… I've never stolen anything in my life."
"You're here to steal! You fucking thief!"
"No.. I..."
"If you're not a thief, you're a sissy! Is that your game? Is that it? In my home?"
He needed to be out of the room. Cal retreated back into the first living room, adjusting the sliding door slightly so that Ms. Frost was no longer in his eyesight. He knew it was extremely rude, but he couldn't stand being inexplicably berated by her for no reason. When he fell back down on the couch, he found Mel sitting next to him.
"Are you okay?" she asked him.
"Me?" He managed a weary smile. "How about you?"
Mel considered this. "No, not really. Maybe it's better this way, I don't know, or maybe I'll feel like crying later. It's not fair for me to be comforted forever by how things used to be. I should know how they are." She shook her head, clearly confused. "Cal… Mom didn't… she didn't use to be like that. At least… that wasn't all she was."
He nodded. "I believe you. I think she's maybe just tired." His words felt insincere even to himself, a convenient excuse to explain what had just happened, but he didn't know what else to say. "Or, I don't know. Maybe there's a medication that she's taking that is affecting her mood."
"Mmm," said Mel. "Maybe. "
He touched her arm, and she looked at him. Then Mel swallowed hard.
"She's going to die soon," she said, trying to keep her voice even.
"Mel, you shouldn't-"
"I can tell," Mel fixed Cal with a stern look, her blue eyes very serious. "I can see the aura of living beings, remember? And hers… it's like wet silk. It's barely there… just hanging on…"
Cal said nothing. There was no comfort he could give. He simply stayed quiet, giving her a space to express her emotions.
Even so, Mel's next question was unexpected. "What was your mother like?"
Cal blinked, taken completely by surprise by the question. "My adoptive mother or my biological mother?"
"Your biological mother. The one I saw in that video."
Cal fell silent for a few moments, lost on how to answer. "I don't know. I think she was an impressive sort of person. I think she gave herself completely into things. Into things she valued. I don't know if my father or I were ever counted in those valued things."
"I see."
Mel exhaled heavily and leaned her head back on the cushions of the couch, her black hair rubbing against the expensive material. "I wonder if when my mother dies, she'll come to me, and we can talk about things. Maybe. I keep saying that word. Maybe, maybe, maybe." She adjusted the straps of her sundress, trying to regain a sort of composure. "Once that happens, Isaac will be the last one left. The last of the Frost family. He'll be living on, all alone."
Cal interlaced his fingers, not looking directly at Mel as he spoke. "Your brother is a strong, kind person. That's my impression of him. He treated me very compassionately at a time when I was very unsure about what my future would look like. So…" He paused. "So… whatever happens in the future… you should have faith in him to overcome it."
"Yeah," said Mel, in a distracted voice. There were hushed voices coming from the other room, and her eyes were fixed on the half-open sliding doors. "I guess… even now… I still think of him as that little kid who followed me around, who would play pranks on me and steal my diary. He was so small. Now he's bigger than me. When… when did that happen? Where did I go?"
She fell into a solemn silence, tucking her knees into her chest as she sat on the couch.
Isaac reentered the living room, closing the sliding door carefully behind him. "She's tired again," he explained to Cal. "I apologize if my mother was a little belligerent to you. It's been a difficult year for her, and she's not used to visitors. Maybe this is difficult to express to you, but getting older… it can be embarrassing."
He was doing well to hide it, but Isaac's eyes seemed a little blurry behind his glasses, and somehow, instinctively, Cal knew. In the brief moments he had had for himself, Isaac had read Mel's letter, and he was doing everything in his power not to show the effect of the words on his face.
Cal stood up from the couch, leaving the untouched mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of him. "I've intruded too long, I apologize. I should probably head back to the manor and begin prepping for dinner."
"Oh no, not at all. It was good to see you."
"You have a lovely home." Cal gestured vaguely at the decor and the framed photos on the wall. "I like these."
"Do you?" Somehow, this comment seemed to have rejuvenated Isaac somewhat, and his eyes came alive a little. "They're my own. My hobby. Truth be told, the various investments of my parents handle what I need in order to live, so this is how I spend my spare time. I've even submitted to some magazines… with little success, admittedly."
"Really?" Cal said, stopping halfway to the apartment's exit, looking at the somewhat bleak pictures of empty streets and buildings. They were all taken a fair distance from their subjects, captured in cold colors. "I suppose they're a little unusual."
Isaac nodded, clearly glad to be discussing this topic. "I guess I have a fondness for empty, quiet places. There's an unusual allure they have for me, as if there is some secret they hold that can't be seen with the eyes. In the past, some even believed that a camera was capable of uncovering invisible, supernatural entities that existed in a world adjacent to our own. It's not a new fixation as far as photography goes: capturing environments devoid of people."
Cal looked at Isaac for a long moment, watching as Mel came up behind her brother and hugged him gently from behind, nestling her head in the space between his neck and shoulder. As he was taller than Mel, she had to float up a foot or two in the air to make their bodies level.
"Do you believe in that, sir?" Cal said, shrugging into his coat.
Isaac chuckled. "What, in ghosts and phantoms? I'm afraid not. This world is quite strange, but I still think we ought to listen to what science tells us. Although…" He smiled, a little playfully, and for the first time, Cal detected a hint of his sister's mischief in Isaac's demeanor. "Science also tells us that crucial, invisible things surround us at all times. The human eye is not an objective judge of existence, and neither are our brains. This has been proven. So if energy must go somewhere else… maybe the things that constitute us must go somewhere, too, to a place we can't see."
"I love you, Isaac," Mel whispered in Isaac's deaf ear. "I love you, little brother. I love you, mother. I love you, father. I promise, one day, we'll all meet again."
She turned her blue eyes to Cal, a mature look on her face. "I'll catch up, Cal. I want to stay a little longer with my brother."
Cal nodded. "I think you're right. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Cal," said both of the Frost siblings.
The last thing Cal saw before he shut the apartment door behind him was Isaac raising an arm to pat his shoulder, right where Mel was embracing him, as if he could detect some warmth in the air there.