I sighed when I saw the caller ID. There was no good reason why my ex-wife, Christina, was calling me so soon after I dropped our son off at her house after my visitation weekend. “Hey Chris, what’s up?”

“Ethan, what the hell is up with that shithole you call a house?”

“’Hi Ethan, how are you?’” I mimicked her voice. “‘Good, Chris, thanks. How are you?’ ‘I’m good, thanks for asking…’”

“Cut the shit, Ethan. What happened to Noah this weekend?”

“Wait, what? We went to the zoo. I told you that. What’s going–”

“He doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Said you let him sleep with you?”

“Well, yeah. He didn’t want to sleep in his room here. I mean, he didn’t want to be in there at all. So, yeah, I let him sleep with me. I figured it’s a new place, he’s just not used to it.”

“Christ,” Christina exhaled. “Nothing else happened?”

“No, nothing else happened.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Chris –”

“Please call me Christina.”

“For Christ’s sake, I’ve called you Chris since we met, I can’t turn on a dime and call you Christina every time.”

“Well, please at least try.”

“Goodbye, Christina,” I added extra emphasis. “See you in two weeks.”

***

 “I just don’t like it, Dad,” Noah said.

“But it’s your room, buddy. Look, I put your favorite dinosaur sheets on the bed. You like those sheets, right?”

Noah nodded. “Daddy, I want to sleep with you,” he whined.

Part of me wanted to take a stand – isn’t that what you’re supposed to do as a father? Put your foot down? This was the third weekend Noah had been over since I moved into the house on Sutter, and he hadn’t slept a single night in the room I made up for him. But I was tired. He was tired. Neither of us had the energy to talk this one through. Maybe in the morning… “Okay, buddy, come on.” He climbed onto the bed. I settled him in, turned off the light and then started to get into what apparently now was my side when Noah was over.

“Dad?”

I stopped. “Yes?”

“Can we leave the bathroom light on?”

I looked through the darkness to the outline of the dark bathroom. I sighed, “Sure, buddy.” I turned the light in the bathroom on before climbing into bed. “Good night, Noah.”

“Night, Daddy.”

He fell asleep almost instantly. Me, not so much. It’s weird, but it felt like the house changed when Noah was in it. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s just been my perspective on the house – with the little one around, it’s no longer my bachelor pad and now I have to change my mindset to be “Dad” – or whether it was something… else. That night I thought I heard whispers right at the edge of hearing. I couldn’t make out any words, and I thought it might be the kids next door having a party and the sound drifting over. But there was no bass music or laughing or anything you’d associate with a party. Just what sounded like people whispering. My mind tried to rationalize it, but nothing made sense and the more I concentrated on trying to figure out what they were saying, the more unsettled I got. But I must have been tired because next thing I know the sun is streaming in the window, and Noah’s head is on my chest leaving a drool puddle on my shirt.

Most visitation weekends I pick up Noah from his Mom’s Saturday morning and bring him back Sunday evening. This weekend, though, Chris had gone out of town for the weekend and asked if I could take him to school on Monday and she’d pick him up after school. To me it meant I had extra time with my son, so that’s fine. We watched the latest Minions movie and then I took him out to dinner at his request. Again, he wanted nothing to do with his room, and I was happy to have another night with him so I didn’t argue when he asked to sleep with me.

But the whispering was back again. I mentally tuned it out and was nearly asleep when movement caught my eye. Something had moved between the lit bathroom and the bed. Eyes wide open now, I stared hard t the rectangle of light that was the bathroom door, waiting for a repeat. No movement, no dimming. But the whispers grew louder so that I could almost make out words… but not quite.

***

“Who did you have over at the house this weekend?”

“Hello to you, Chris – Christina,” I caught myself. “What are you talking about?”

“Noah told his friends that you always have people over when he’s there. Is that true? Do you have what’s her name there? Ellie?”

“Eleanor? No, we broke up like six months ago. Christina, no one was over at the house. It was just the two of us. What exactly did he say? I had people over?”

“Apparently, he said he doesn’t like the people at your house. Ethan, if any of your stupid friends is messing with my baby, so help me God…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down there. No one is at the house when he’s here. It’s literally just us.”

“So, he’s lying then?” she said in clipped tones. “You’re saying our son is a liar?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache I felt coming on every time Chris and I would fight. “Christina, no, no one’s calling him a liar. I don’t know why he’s telling people there’s people over here.”

She was silent for a long moment. “You swear to God?”

“Jesus, Christina…”

“Swear to God?”

I sighed heavily. “Yes, my hand to God, I’m not having anyone at the house when Noah’s here. That’s our time.”

She was quiet again. Then said, “…Because I won’t hesitate to go to court…”

“Goodbye, Chris,” I said deliberately, ending the call.

***

Two weeks later, Noah was asleep next to me in bed and I couldn’t tune out the whispering. I rolled over and caught something slip between the bed and the bathroom. I stared at the lit bathroom doorway – nothing. Something blurred in my periphery by the door to the hallway. The whispering grew louder, so loud that I looked down at Noah to see if it had woken him – still sound asleep. My eyes dart from the door to the hallway to the bathroom doorway and back, my arms instinctively holding Noah.

The whispering stops suddenly. The house is silent.

“You can’t protect him,” a female girl’s voice whispered right behind my right ear.

I leapt out of bed, spinning to see who was there. No one. I saw a shadow cross in front of the bathroom.

“Did they talk to you?” Noah’s voice came from the bed.

I looked down at him staring up at me, fear plain on his face. “Who? Did who talk to me?”

He shrunk into himself, tears welling up in his eyes. “They told me I can’t tell you or they would hurt me.”

The door to Noah’s room slammed shut with a bang. I jumped. The door to the bathroom slammed shut, plunging the room into darkness.

I lunged for the light switch, but no lights came on. I leaned over and scooped Noah up and moved into the hallway, heading for the front door. The table by the door tipped over, sending everything crashing to the floor, including the little bowl I kept my keys in. I bent, grabbed the keys, unlocked the front door and pulled. The front door didn’t budge. With a Herculean effort I can only attribute to Dad adrenaline strength, I wrenched the door open and strode out into the night, the door slamming behind me.

“I’m scared, Daddy,” Noah said as I buckled him into his car seat with shaking fingers.

“I know, buddy,” I said as reassuringly as I could. “We’ll be fine…”

“Where are we going, Daddy?”

I didn’t rightly know – I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “We’re going to find a hotel for the night. Everything will be better tomorrow. You have school in the morning.”

I started the car and hurried out of the driveway as I could see lights inside the house wink on and off furiously. As we sped through the neighborhood, I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with my house, but I’d sort it out. Or burn the place to the ground – I didn’t rightfully know. I turned the radio on to soothe my nerves.

The loud whispering emanated from the car’s speakers.