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Facing the Music: With Steve, and Otherwise

27/03/09

The 11 page tome that was my research on the Briar Witch took up a fair chunk of my week, so I really didn’t have the energy or time to write a personal update since Emery’s investigation results. Sometimes personal updates are no fun; it’s more enjoyable to give you the research, or the artifacts, or the spooky stories. It’s more fun to think of Rose Red as still being here, because that’s where I’m sure Nick is, somewhere or another.

The rose trellis in the garden at the center of the complex. Growing healthily no matter what season…

Truth is Rose Red is still here, just not in the same way. Life here in my Rose Suite has to go on, even when it gets weird. My friendships, like plants, need nurturing to grow. I knew Steve would be upset with me, you may recall I wrote about it a couple days ago. He did call me, though he wasn’t as angry as I expected. We arranged dinner out, which we did yesterday. Chill. Nice. The sort of thing completely normal friends with completely normal ties to each other do. Except the tie that binds him and me is losing our significant others in a haunted house eight years ago…

Far from normal, wouldn’t you say?

I think Steve copes a lot with avoidance, and I don’t think he’d mind me sharing that with you. He’s aware of it. Enthusiasts will remember he persistently denied having any memories of meeting Ellen in the house when he was a boy until Nick dragged it out of him. He can sublimate things well for self-protection. It’s not always healthy, but sometimes it’s necessary for survival.

Really, if we value each other, what good is there in continually butting heads over my living situation? Steve knows I’m not budging. I know Steve’s concerned. Same conversation, over and over…we just don’t have it in us anymore.

We talked about other things, instead. And that was a little unexpected, but I guess that’s the point we’ve reached after the events in my condo the past two weeks. At that point I thought we were going to go on avoiding talking about Joyce or Ellen or anyone else as much as possible. For that moment it was good for both of us. Maybe I need a break once in a while, too.

So we went out to dinner at a small place, where we could have a decent meal and privacy enough to enjoy a chat. After the week I’ve had – pouring over books for work, pouring over research for this site, etc. - a night out was just what the doctor ordered. A couple bottles of wine later and we were tipsy but happy.

I went back to Steve’s place which is a really nice penthouse apartment with a fantastic view. His ultimate bachelor pad, though he doesn’t treat it that way. I don’t know why, he’s a handsome eligible guy, women ought to be throwing themselves at him. (Perhaps they are, and he’s still too shaken to catch them.) What he’s done with wise investments has worked well for him – plus what was leftover from the sale of Rose Red and all its contents, and the royalties from the miniseries and Ellen’s diary – and he does have a day job in computers, but he’s his own boss so he sets casual hours. He initially had lots of debt to pay off from his family’s “broke-itis”, as he calls it, but that’s all in the past.

Once we were in his flat he handed me an envelope and told me to open it when I got home. He has a habit of doing that when he gives a gift or something…”open it later”, “wait until X date” or “Y time”. It’s simultaneously thoughtful and frustrating. We watched some TV and had some more wine. We rode the buzz and had a few laughs. He’ll deny it, but as I left he laughed and said “tell Joyce my jaw hurt for days”, referencing how she had struck him repeatedly in the face when he tried to take her from the house.

When I hopped a taxi home I was too drunk to open the envelope, so I put it down and passed out. I woke up with a hangover, of course (why is it Thursday nights always result in a hangover for me? Nick and I always went out most on Thursday nights). My mobile phone rang and it was Steve, who said he was in a similar state. I think we were both whispering, we were so sensitive to sound. I asked him what the hell he was doing calling at 8am, he asked if I’d opened the envelope. I said I hadn’t but I would when I got some coffee down me. He was clearly excited about its contents. I told him I’d call him later, but before we hung up he said, “2021”. And the flow of conversation went something like this.

And that was that. Cryptic, dizzying, unexpected, and a little bit odd.

So I made a gigantic pot of coffee, pulled closed the blinds, took a couple aspirin, and sat down with the mysterious envelope.

What I found inside wasn’t so much for me, but for you. That’s right, dear readers. It was for you.

Hello everyone,

I, like you, read Ally’s blog almost every day. It’s a bit weird being talked about but my story is in good hands with her. She’s right about everything she says about my fear of Rose Red and how unhappy it’s made me that she’s living on the property. I hate that she has some of Rose Red’s architectural elements in her condo. I don’t know what I was thinking giving her the crystal bowl, I guess I thought she’d like some tangible connection. Now she has more connection than I am comfortable with. The house was supposed to be gone. And I won’t even begin to go into how I feel about the things that were revealed after Emery’s visit.

Actually, I think I’ll send Emery an e-mail too, why should Ally be the only one to be scolded?

Back on track. Point is, you know I’m not crazy about Ally being where she is. What you may not know but should know is that I do admire her tenacity and compassion. She’s there because she loves her fiancé and she wants to be near him, and she also wants to solve whatever mystery is at the heart of Rose Red. She has a feeling solving it will bring Nick back, and I guess Joyce and Pam and maybe even Vic, and Ellen, and April, and Sukeena, and…

I suppose those too old to be alive or who were killed on the property will simply be dead on arrival, right? I don’t know how it’ll work. I’m not sure it’s a well thought plan, which is why Ally needs some help.

Ally’s an idealist. She’s in there with ghosts for roommates and she’s digging hundreds of years into family histories to put together connections between Rose Red and mystery or tragedy elsewhere. She does it because she thinks every time she makes a connection she’ll be closer to understanding what Rose Red is really all about. And if she understands why Rose Red is the way it is, then she can free the spirits. Exactly how, I don’t know, and I’m not sure Ally’s gotten to that point in her theory either.

It’s not the best plan I’ve ever heard, but I can’t think of a better one. At least it’s an intellectual plan, not running recklessly into something dangerous the way Joyce and the rest of us did that weekend. For lack of a better idea and for the fact that I care about Ally and know she needs help sorting this all out, and because like her and Nick I suppose I really want to see the people Rose Red harmed brought back and made well, I’m going to help Ally from here on out.

Dee needed me to keep her from bouncing off the planet with her theories and obsessions. Ally needs me to keep her on track and help her decide “what’s next?” after every piece of the puzzle’s in place. I’m good in the supporting role. I should get an Oscar.

No more being afraid. No more denial. If I get pissed off I’ll say it, but I’ll try not to be argumentative. If I get scared I’ll admit it, and I’ll explain why. But I want to be part of Ally’s research because I do have things that I can offer, resources available to me that may be useful. If nothing else maybe they’ll be entertaining to you, the readers. And let me tell you, every single one of you means so much to Ally. I think she feels less alone knowing that this site is visited daily and that people are sharing her story.

I’m ready, so you get ready to hear more about me in the coming months. I don’t care if Ellen’s whispering in Ally’s condo; I turned Ellen away once, I can do it again. I don’t care if Joyce is typing her initials on Ally’s computer at all hours of the night. I left Joyce behind once, I can do it again. I’m going to visit Ally’s condo soon. Maybe the first time with Emery, or maybe not. I don’t know. I’m still in touch with Annie but there’s no way in hell I’m bringing her back.

I plan to get totally wasted with Ally tonight, but I’m sober writing this. So you have my promise that Steven Rimbauer is on board. I am tired of hiding from my own last name. I hate being afraid hearing the words “Spring Street” let alone “Rose Red”.

I was wrong when I said it would never be over as long as the house stands. It’s not over yet, which means there’s work to be done to finish it for good, and I don’t want to let Ally do all the work by herself.

Thanks for reading. Keep it up. Everybody who loves Ally appreciates you keeping her virtual company with your visits, comments, and tweets.

- Steve Rimbauer

PS. To get things started I’ve enclosed two old photos. Ally can scan them. One is my grandfather Adam in Rose Red when he was a baby. The other is my father James in the house where my grandparents settled in Oregon. I’ll let Ally fill you in on the rest, and she’ll understand why I selected these specific photos to show you.

And one more thing. I do dream about the hammer every once in a while.

So there you have it. Steve’s on board. How involved he’ll be I don’t know. And when he plans to visit I don’t know either, but you can be sure I’ll keep you updated. I hardly know how to respond to this…it’s something I’ve been craving on so many levels. I told you once before part of me hoped Steve would wake Rose Red up, but Rose Red’s already waking up. I won’t need Steve’s help to stir the spirits. But having his support to keep me in one piece while I do all this will be most welcome.

As to the photos, here they are. I love them, I hope you will too.


ABOVE: Adam as a baby. There’s something really haunting, almost disturbing about the way his face is displayed here. By all accounts Adam was a normal child and aside from some of the terrible events he witnessed in Rose Red before he was sent away, he wasn’t some devil child. But he looks almost afraid or possessed, doesn’t he? The beautiful wicker high chair is a real throwback to generations gone by. It’s clear that he was doted on; I do feel badly for Ellen that he was taken from her at such a young age. When you think about it, she suffered greatly in life.


ABOVE: This is Steve’s dad James, far away from Rose Red in Oregon, where Adam and his wife Ethel settled. It wasn’t until James married a Seattle area beauty (who lost her looks as her alcoholism progressed) that the Rimbauer name returned to Seattle. I see a family resemblance between Adam and James – James was a bit older than Adam when this picture was taken. But look how jolly James is. Every Rimbauer should have experienced such joy, but that wasn’t to be. Notice that Adam did salvage his old high chair from Rose Red’s attic, so James is sitting in Adam’s old chair, decades later. James stayed clear of Rose Red when he returned to Seattle. He told Steve the place gave him the creeps and made him feel something heavy inside, like sadness but so thick it could strangle him. James was usually a happy-go-lucky guy, so staying clear of Rose Red was good for him. Unfortunately he died in 1983 (Steve was 11) from a sudden heart attack while he was working (interestingly he was a botanist, and given the way plants behave on the Rimbauer property he might have found a lot to study here, had he visited). Steve’s mom Aimie died in 1996, leaving 24 year old Steven an orphan. He’d already dropped out of college – his mom’s health was bad for several years before her death and while he wasn’t always the greatest caregiver, his family situation weighed heavily on him. He drifted, caught in the web of his frightening lineage and the Rimbauer debt. It was a dark time for him, until he met Joyce. Then he had someone to care for, a sort of mother figure and a girlfriend rolled into one, twisted as that sounds.

I have a feeling this is only the beginning of things Steve will share with us as time goes by. I’m excited!

After reading Steve’s letter today and recovering (mostly) from the hangover, I combed through Nick’s and my CD collection for some music to accompany my work. I found a CD that was released in 2000 as a companion piece to a really strange book called House of Leaves. The CD was done by the author’s sister, a singer named Poe. It’s called Haunted.

House of Leaves sort of reminds me of Rose Red, in a way. It’s a daunting 700+ pages long, and it’s a totally confusing read. But it’s worth reading if you enjoy unnerving stories that force you to think and feel. I reviewed it once in 2000 when it was published. That was before the events in Rose Red. Reading Ellen’s diary in 2001, as Nick was in the mansion experiencing its terror, brought back some memories of this haunting book. I was delighted when I noticed companion music to the book and Nick and I listened to the CD several times.

The CD has a lot of creep factor itself. Disembodied voices, songs with haunting lyrics…and Poe’s voice pulls it all off beautifully. Listening to it again today I realized just how potent those lyrics are, and how they have come to apply to my life now. Back when Nick and I enjoyed the CD, it was simply a collection of songs that were somewhat reminiscent of things he’d experienced in his paranormal studies…but as they’d say in Spinal Tap, to paraphrase, cranked up to 11. Neither of us suspected that come 2001 an invitation to visit Rose Red would bring House of Leaves and Haunted to life in a whole new way.

Take the song “Haunted”, which can be heard in the fairly awful film Book of Shadows – Blair Witch 2. It’s a song that now that I’ve heard it again, will be stuck in my head for ages. You can hear a clip here. And another song, “If You were Here”, made me cry. Nick used to say the song reminded him of his mum and pop. Now it just reminds me of Nick. You can hear a clip here.

Examine “Haunted” a bit and you’ll see what I mean about its significance. Especially now that I know what Emery found here.

Come here.
Pretty please…
Can you tell me where I am?
You…won’t you say something?
I need to get my bearings,
I’m lost -
And the shadows keep on changing.

And I’m haunted
By the lives that I have loved,
And actions I have hated.
I’m haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head.

Don’t cry,
There’s always a wa.
Here in November in this house of leaves
We’ll pray.
Please, I know it’s hard to believe -
To see a perfect forest
Through so many splintered trees.
You and me…
And these shadows keep on changing

And I’m haunted
By the lives that I have loved,
And actions I have hated.
I’m haunted
By the promises I’ve made,
And others I have broken.
I’m haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head.

I’ll always love you.
I’ll always need you.
I’ll always want you.
And I will always miss you.

Come here!
No I won’t say please.
One more look at the ghost
Before I’m gonna make it leave.
Come here.
I’ve got the pieces here.
Time to gather up the splinters,
Build a casket for my tears.

I’m haunted
By the hallways in this tiny room,
The echos there of me and you.
The voices that are carrying this tune…

Don’t you see how those could apply to me…and not only to me, but to Ellen! If you read her diary you’ll imagine these lyrics everywhere as her suffering unfolds. The loss of April, and in a lesser way, the loss of Adam. The feeling that Rose Red was mocking her, the promise to step up to the challenge by sending her servants away and depriving the house of life energy. Her hurt and hatred for John. Her mourning for Sukeena. The house’s mind of its own, the way it grew by itself after her disappearance.

Following the song is a very strange sequence that gives me shivers.

A voice that’s meant to be a father asks:

What is it Annie?

In response, a weird little girl’s voice, rather spooky, saying:

You think I’ll cry? I won’t cry!
My heart will break before I cry!
I will go mad.

I don’t know about you, but that seems very much like Ellen to me. (How coincidental the girl’s name is Annie.) Again, much of this ties to the book, but the music stands independently, too.

The second song, “If You Were Here”, is purely sentimental. There is the voice of the father again woven into the spaces between verses, as if writing a letter to his child. But that’s not what strikes me, and not what made me cry. It was the words of the verses…especially given the dream I had the other day.

If you were here,
I know that you would
Truly be amazed
At what’s become of what you made.
If you were here,
You would know how I treasured every day.
How every single word you spoke
Echoes in me like a memory of hope.

When you were here,
You could not feel the value that I placed
On every look that crossed your face.
When you were here,
I did not know just how I had embraced
All that you hid behind your face -
Could not hide from me,
‘Cause it hid in me too.

Now that I’m here, I hear you and wonder if maybe you can hear yourself
Ringing in me now that you’re somewhere else.

‘Cause I hear your strange music gentle and true,
Singing inside me with the best parts of you.
Now that I’m here,
I hope somewhere you hear them too.

Now that I’m here…
I love you…

Then the girl’s voice again, devastating:

It’s okay. You can go now.

Nick can’t go now. I can’t go now. We’re not finished.

3 Comments »

  1. [...] Unraveling Rose Red » Facing the Music: With Steve, and Otherwise [...]

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  2. [...] The Last Rimbauer Recently Ally O’Sullivan was contacted by none other than Steve Rimbauer, the last of the Rimbauer’s (you can read about it here). [...]

    Pingback by The Last Rimbauer « — April 1, 2009 @ 7:00 pm

  3. [...] paying a heavy price for last week’s drinking session with Steve…somewhere along the line my immune system let down its guard and I developed the worst head [...]

    Pingback by Unraveling Rose Red » Getting to Know Vic & Steve’s First Contribution — April 2, 2009 @ 7:46 am

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