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In the summer of 2012, Diana slept over at her parents’ house for a couple of nights after a particularly upsetting incident where she had attempted to get a place at a kindergarten for… him. This meant that Dan was home alone with Natalie, who at the age of four was incredibly precocious and - inexplicably, in a house of such sorrow - the happiest little girl that Dan had ever seen. Because she was too young to understand why her mother set an extra place at the breakfast table with a dinosaur themed plate and cup, or why her father didn’t like her to talk about her imaginary friends, she still laughed and smiled. She even had a little toy keyboard - one of those neon rainbow electric ones that lit up and played tinny renditions of nursery rhymes like ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ - which she would play on at all hours as if she were a skilled pianist.
It wasn’t actually that unusual for Dan to be the only one looking after Natalie, Diana was forgetful at the best of times and catatonic on her bad days, unable to comprehend the reality that she only had one child. Therefore, even with his wife gone, he was able to care for and entertain his young daughter with great success, to the point that she barely even realised that Diana was gone. The two had spent the afternoon at the park - Natalie had received a picture book about flowers for her birthday a few months ago so she took delight in pointing out every plant she recognised - and they’d only just gotten home before it started raining. Natalie, of course, had been delighted to splash in the tiny puddles on the front doorstep in her polka dot wellies, and she was even more delighted when, as a special treat that she usually wasn’t allowed when Diana was home, Dan agreed to let her watch Sesame Street.
Leaving his daughter to watch tv in the living room, Dan slipped into the kitchen to whip up a quick dinner. As he deliberated between spaghetti and the frozen pizza that he’d shoved into the back of the fridge and forgotten about, he heard a soft knocking sound that was slightly muffled by the rain and the sound of Beethoven’s 5th blaring from the countertop radio. Huh, Dan thought, that was puzzling. He turned down the radio, assuming that he’d imagined the sound, but then it came again. This time, it was more insistent. Perhaps it was Natalie trying to trick him? Hoping that this would be the case, he stuck his head round the door to peer into the living room, where his daughter was still engrossed with Elmo and Big Bird - she hadn’t moved.
There was always the possibility that Dan was just tired and needed to sleep a few extra hours that night, so again he shrugged it off. The third time the knocking came, just as Dan had resolved to heat up the pizza, he’d had just about enough. His final guess was that it was some neighbourhood kids playing some new version of Ding Dong Ditch, and so he stormed into the hallway to give them a piece of his mind. Standing just behind his front door, Dan called out in a firm voice:
“Who’s there?”
That’s when the sound came. A giggle. High and warbled, uncanny in its pitch perfect quality. A child’s laughter, but almost innocent. Not a prankster. After that there was a few second of silence, before…
“Silly Daddy, you forgot to let me in!”
The little voice on the other side of the door was playful. It was a boy - Dan just knew - clearly seeing this situation as some sort of game that would have a fantastic prize at the end. Slightly more nervous, Dan asked again:
“Who’s there?”
The boy outside replied, just as playful as before but slightly more urgent.
“C’mon, Daddy! I’m hungry, and I wanna watch Elmo with Natty!”
Dan’s heart dropped to his stomach. No. His brain was finally connecting the dots - a little boy, around the same age as… he… would’ve been, able to see what was on the tv (the living room’s only window didn’t have a view of the screen and it definitely wasn’t open so no sound could escape). But ghosts aren’t real. They just aren’t.
Despite himself, as the knocking started up again, Dan headed back into the living room. He sat down beside Natalie on the couch, and ruffled her blonde hair affectionately. He loved his little girl, truly, and he was so glad that she had been born. In an ideal world, he would still want her as much as he’d wanted her brother. Natalie glanced up at him, an easy grin on her face. Now that he had her attention, Dan asked her as casually as he could:
“Nat, honey, could you hear any knocking just now?”
Tilting her head and wrinkling her nose in confusion, Natalie made a noncommittal shrugging gesture before responding.
“Nope, I only heard you, Daddy. Why, you okay?”
Forcing himself to smile for her sake - as he often did when Diana was home and only brought their daughter stress and confusion - Dan nodded and made a hurried excuse to go back to the hallway. He comforted himself with the knowledge that there was no ghost. His own mind was turning against him, and the only way to stop it was to remind himself that this wasn’t real. But that was difficult when the phantom on the other side began knocking with a fierce desperation before whimpering in terror and pleading.
“Please, Daddy. I’m hungry and my boots are all muddy. Let me in, please!”
The door was staying locked, no matter what happened. Dan was the only one holding his house together, he could not break. He could not bend to this delusion, no matter what his mind conjured. Diana would’ve opened the door, no doubt about it. She wouldn’t have let him stay outside in the rain, because what loving parent ever could? The little boy continued, pleading in earnest now.
“It’s dark and it’s cold and I’m so scared! I want Mommy!”
At this moment, Dan wanted Diana as well. Maybe she would’ve heard this too, maybe he wouldn’t have felt so out of his depth if he was concentrated on his wife and not the presence on the other side of his door? But oh, now his mind was truly being cruel. That little boy, standing outside in muddy boots, cold and damp from rain, began to sob. The child just cried and cried, as if nothing could console him. Just like he had done so long ago, crying ceaselessly until the doctors had taken him for treatment. Even then he had still cried out for his parents as he disappeared down those sterile smelling white corridors. It was enough to crush Dan’s remaining strength, but finally the restless spirit stopped, hiccuping miserably. He begged:
“Please let me in, I miss you, Daddy. And Natty. I miss you both so much, and I know you can hear me now. Dunno why, but you talked to me. That means I can come home, doesn’t it? It has to!”
At the end, the boy’s voice became hopeful. He continued, rambling like any child with a new toy.
“If I can come in, I can be a real boy, like Pinocchio in that movie I watched with Mommy! Then I can go to school, and play with Natty, and we can play trains together, or pirates, or airplanes, or- or rocket ships! I can do everything Mommy says I do, and nobody’s ever gonna cry ever again!”
Finally, Dan spoke. He cleared his throat - he wasn’t crying, he absolutely wasn’t because he was strong and this wasn’t real - and let out a hoarse:
“Go away.”
This made the hope and excitement drain from the child outside’s voice. He tried to plead with Dan again, but his voice seemed less perfectly pitched. Instead, it was hollow, as devoid of life as he was but as devastated as he’d been before. The boy said:
“Don’t make me go back to the dark scary place where not when Mommy sees me, please. I love you, I wanna come home. Please just let me in and hold me and tell me that it’s gonna be okay, I’m so scared and I feel so alone. Mommy’s gone away and now I have nobody, it’s so dark and quiet.”
As Dan heaved a heavy sigh and walked out of the hallway to finally make dinner, he heard a final round of desperate pleas behind him:
“No, Daddy, don’t! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me alone again! I’ll be good, I’ll be a good son! I’ll play baseball and do my homework and eat my veggies and I’ll ride a bike! I’ll help Natty tie her shoes and I’ll do anything you want! I’m good, I’m a good boy! I love you!”
There was no voice. The knocking had stopped, and even the rain was starting to fade. Gabe was gone, wasn’t he? Dan felt so broken, with the overwhelming urge to hug Natalie tight to his chest and never let go again. Even though he knew for a fact that he’d imagined it, it all had felt so heartbreakingly real, as if… no. He’d call Diana’s doctor in the morning to ask if he had any advice. Everything was gonna be good, it had to be. There was no room for doubt or ghosts of the past if things were ever going to be better. Some memories are better left forgotten, right?