The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

There sat a red and white, three story home on the very corner of a modest, middle class neighborhood clear on the outskirts of
Cypress.The home wasn't as big as the occupants had desired, but at least it was as far away from the city's hustle and bustle
as one could possibly get.
A perfectly manicured lawn and well paved driveway is where a 1975 maroon Camaro sat right beside a black 1977
Corvette.Both vehicles were awkwardly parked to where the walkway that led to the house was all but blocked off. If a person
wanted to get into the house they would have to use the lawn as an alternative entrance.
On other side of the door was a well lived in dwelling; an oak mantle that supported various pictures of white family members, as
well as vacation spots and wedding photos. However, the rest of the living room was rapidly becoming vacant with the passing of
days. Gone were the two leather couches, love seat and coffee table that inhabited the area. Up and along the stairs was a loud
thumping like that of a herd of humans chasing after one another.
Down the steps came a young, five month pregnant woman with a large box in her arms. In her condition such a strenuous task
of carrying a sizable load should have been advised against, but she handled said duty with the stamina of a weight lifter until
she reached the living room and simply dropped the box of clothes onto the hardwood floor.
"Julie, I told you I would carry everything out." Jeremiah came rushing after his wife down the stairs.
With a red scarf wrapped around her sweaty, freckled forehead, Julie took off her eyeglasses and said, "Oh, now you're
concerned about my welfare?"
As soon as Jeremiah stepped onto the floor, he went for the box and rummaged through his clothing in a rush.
"Do you think your car can fit the rest of the boxes?" Julie huffed.
Standing back up, Jeremiah looked at the woman with disappointment in his sullen eyes. "Look...maybe we should—
"Oh, I almost forgot about those baseball cards of yours." Julie suddenly perked up. "I'll be right back."
But before she could take off, Jeremiah managed to grab her by the arm and halt her progression.
"We need to talk." He forcefully stated.
Julie just gradually pulled her arm from out of Jeremiah's grip before taking three ominous steps backwards like she were afraid
of him.

"Let's just take a few minutes to talk this over." Jeremiah patted the air with his hands.
Appearing completely at ease, Julie stood and stared at Jeremiah in the most profound manner.
"Jeremiah, there really isn't anything that needs to be said at this point." She calmly specified.
"But I think there is."
Clasping her hands together, Julie asked, "Okay, okay, what would you like for us to talk about? How we're gonna divide up this
house? Or how we're going to have custody of the baby?"
All Jeremiah could do was stand in the middle of the floor and break out into a feverish sweat in his undershirt, green and white
hip-hugger shorts and Nike's.
"What is it you would like to talk about, Jeremiah?" Julie cocked her head. "Because to be perfectly honest, I think we've talked
ourselves to death at this point."
"How can you stand there and say that?"
"Simple, because when I found my husband screwing my baby sister doggy-style on our living room floor, I really have nothing to
discuss!" Julie all of the sudden exploded.
Jeremiah wanted to step forward and comfort his pregnant wife, but all he could do was remain still out of utter mortification.He
could tell that Julie wanted to break down and cry, but instead she just paced back and forth on the floor like she was searching
for something more to utter.
Julie soon stopped walking long enough to say, "I truly do believe that you and I need a break. I mean...I'm mad as hell, but with
you, Jeri, there's been something going on with you these past few months."
Trying to keep his knees from knocking, Jeremiah pointed at himself, "Me? How do you mean?"
"Don't play that role with me, Jeri. All I want to know is, is it me that's been driving you away?"
"How can you say that, Julie?"
"Is it being a father for the first time? Are you afraid?"
"Julie, it's neither you nor the baby."

"Then what is it?" Jeremiah began his own march back and forth across the floor until his hands met with the banister.
"You really think that I'm that naïve, don't you?"
Jeremiah looked at Julie in the most confused way. "What are you talking about?"
Julie stared at the man before saying, "Ever since February, you've been a completely different person."
"February," Jeremiah strained to say.
"You don't remember February?" Julie began to advance towards Jeremiah. "Ever since your patient went on that rampage?"
Jeremiah dropped his head before stepping over and sitting down on the second to last step on the stairs.
Standing above him, Julie said in a composed voice, "Jeri, look in the bottom of your box."
Jeremiah looked up at Julie before he reached over to the box and sifted through all the clothes until he came to the very bottom.
What his hand eventually made contact with was something that not even he ever imagined would be there.
Slowly, Jeremiah pulled out a framed picture that contained a newspaper clipping of Isaac Mercer's death. Jeremiah just stared
at the thing in a trance.
"I found that not in your study, but underneath our own bed." Julie said. "I never wanted to say anything, but I always had a
hunch all these months that you've been holding all this inside of you."
Jeremiah tossed the frame back into the box before getting up from off the stairs and proceeding to pace the floor all over again.
"Maybe you need to talk to someone." Julie suggested. "Perhaps the psychiatrist needs a psychiatrist."
"Oh, Julie, please." Jeremiah grumbled.
"Have you tried speaking with Paul?"
"Yeah right, that's like talking with a thirteen year old." He rolled his eyes.
"Then I don't know what else to do!" Julie screamed. "Because whatever is happening was strong enough to cause you to cheat
on me! Now, my husband is sleeping at a Holiday Inn and moving out of our house!"
"These are the things you wanted, not me!"

"Why would I want to stay with someone who can't even talk to his own wife?"
"Julie, I don't know what made me do what I did with Justine! All I know is that...I don't know anything anymore!" Jeremiah
capitulated.
Julie just walked over and began repacking Jeremiah's clothes back into the box. "Did you happen to sleep with any of your
female patients over the past few months, too?"
Spinning around in shock, Jeremiah said, "Of course not."
"Good, because the last thing any of us needs is to have one of your groupies dropping by unannounced."
"How can you say something like that, Julie?" Jeremiah became outraged. "I'm a professional. I've never done anything like
that."
Julie just stood and gave Jeremiah the most blank face she could before clutching her stomach.
Immediately, Jeremiah rushed over to her aid."Is it another stomach ache?" He coddled his wife.
A knock at the front door caused Julie to step away from Jeremiah with her stale expression still attached to her pale face.
Jeremiah stood and marveled at his wife's ominous character. It was almost as if something or someone had pushed them apart
from each other and kept them that way.The second series of knocks at the door were louder than the first. Julie rolled her eyes
before walking to the door to answer it.
Jeremiah could hear that it was a man at the door. He didn't want to look back and see just who exactly it was.He went over and
picked up the framed picture that was lying inside his box before carrying it through the dining room, kitchen and eventually
downstairs into the basement.
Being a fairly new house the basement didn't possess the usual creaks, odors or appearances that older homes carried with
them. No cobwebs had formed as of yet, nor were the musty aromas of age anywhere present. All that resided within the cellar
was a washer, dryer, a tool table and wrapped boxes that sat in a corner.
As soon as Jeremiah hit the final step, he cut on the light switch and went straight for the tool table. With as much angst as he
could muster he slammed the frame down onto the table before leaning against the edge and exhaling as hard as he could.

Everything Julie had said to him back upstairs, coupled with finding the picture, came rushing back at Jeremiah like a bullet to
the face. He opened his eyes to see the frame cracked with Isaac's smiling face staring right back at him.
Jeremiah picked up the frame and angrily tossed it to the other side of the room like a football. The man then began walking
around the basement in a salty trance while listening to Julie and a man whose voice he didn't even recognize converse up
above.
In the midst of his tour Jeremiah tried his hardest not to even glance at the broken frame that was lying in pieces on the floor. He
honestly couldn't believe that Julie even found the thing, let alone hid the fact from him all those months.
Jeremiah continued to spread his ever erratic attention in all directions, from Isaac to Julie, all the way to the man she was
speaking with. When his focus power had all but diminished Jeremiah shut his eyes and stopped right in the middle of the floor
next to the furnace.
Something was amiss, his ears could sense it. Jeremiah listened more to both Julie's voice and the man who was sounding less
like a normal human being and more like a deep-throated, angry brute that was on the edge of losing his temper.
Without a moment's more hesitation the man leapt up the stairs and ran through both the kitchen and dining room until he finally
made it to the front room to find absolutely no one there.
Jeremiah raced to the door, flung it open and looked outside to see nothing but his own yard and a couple of cars tool down the
street.
"Julie!" He screamed as he came flying back into the house.
Jeremiah sprinted up the stairs like a raving lunatic, eventually stopping at their bedroom to find Julie sitting up on the bed
watching television.
Breathing heavy and sweating, Jeremiah caught his breath and asked, "Who was that at the door?"
Julie's face took on a conceited, if not faintly surprised appearance at that moment. She turned down the volume on the TV and
said in a dry tone, "Jeri, that was an hour ago. You're just now asking me that?"
"Whaddya mean, an hour," Jeremiah's body grew stiff. "I was only downstairs for a few minutes."
Julie continued to stare at Jeremiah in an insipid manner which suggested that she was all but weary of the conversation just ten
seconds into.

"It was the paperboy, Jeri." Julie said. "He stopped by to collect last month's payment."
"But that sounded like a grown man at the door." Jeremiah insisted.
Exhaling, Julie remarked, "Jeri, why don't you go back down into the basement and finish doing what you've been doing for the
past hour or so? I'm lying down." Julie cut off the television before rolling over onto her side.
Jeremiah stood a moment or two more before carefully closing the door on his way out. He then looked down at his wristwatch to
discover the glass cracked. He frantically took it off of his left arm and examined the piece.
Beyond the broken shards of glass he could see the time. 11:22 a.m. Jeremiah then ran back down the stairs and went
immediately next to the mantle where the grandfather clock sat.
It read 12:24 p.m.