Page 78 of The Invisible Roommate

Even if he no longer identified as the Emory who stole and tricked and deceived, he could not deny that he had done all those things. Multiple times!

When he started his story of the twisted invisibility experiment gone too far, he looked around at the faces of the raptly listening islanders and confronted the hard truth that they had not deserved his malevolent hocus-pocus.

Regina’s apartment with Gerard was the first place that had felt like a home since he was five years old. This island, these people—they called to him. Some ancient, mystical voice in the storm outside told him that he could weather anything, any move, but now was the time to stay put and be part of a community. If they’d have him.

“The mad scientist needed a lair all his own in a remote, unreachable locale such as the one we find ourselves in now.” His voice dropped half an octave, taking on a gravelly quality like the narrator from old episodes of The Twilight Zone.

As he detailed the dastardly deeds of the invisible monster, some children plugged their ears and curled up into their parents’ sides for protection. Those parents, however, leaned in as they caught on to hints of events that had taken place around the island.

Through the telling, Emory let the story go. Not once after that first attempt did Gerard try to stop him. He must’ve understood simply by the tone of Emory’s voice that this, like it or not, was necessary.

“Then,” Emory said, confidence unwavering. He reached into the center of the circle and grasped the nearest flashlight, turning it up beneath his chin for eerie emphasis. “On Halloween night, in one final act of monstrosity, the invisible man infiltrated the annual masquerade party in disguise, skulked about the place, causing everyone to wonder who he was and where he’d come from.” In Emory’s peripheral vision, he saw Sergeant Adye bolt to attention. “As a storm surged, they were all cooped up together in the school library and entirely unprepared for his final act…” Off came the mask. Out came a few gasps of recognition. “Turning himself in.”

Silence strangled the room. It was such staggering silence that nobody, until later, registered that the rain and the wind had halted. They were either in the eye of the storm or it had passed entirely.

“Em—” Gerard’s voice was a whispery wobble.

“It’s okay,” Emory said, setting his hand over the one Gerard had placed on his bicep at some point during the story. Here goes nothing, he thought. “I want to say I’m sorry to all of you. I should not have stolen your food, borrowed your golf carts, or sowed chaos among your community. It was easier for me to scare you all than it was to confront my own fears, especially my fear that nobody would ever see me. But Ger—James showed me that we can’t entirely control how other people choose to see us, but we do control how we see ourselves. I don’t want to see myself as a thief and a liar. I want to see myself as a scientist, a community member, and a good partner.”

He turned to lock eyes with Gerard, who beamed pride straight into his soul. He kissed the back of Gerard’s hand before standing and extending his wrists out to Sergeant Adye. “I’m ready now. Arrest me.”

The room seemed split. Half the islanders were vocally confused. Half the islanders were ready to act out their vigilante fantasies, hobbling up to their feet in anger. Sergeant Adye slid in front of Emory and, in one booming shout, quieted the crowd.

Sergeant Adye squinted his eyes in curious inspection. “Did all of that really happen?”

“It did,” Emory said.

“You swear to it?” he asked.

“I swear to it.” Taking ownership of his actions felt good. Better than he even expected.

Sergeant Adye peered past him, eyes landing on Gerard, who placed a comforting hand on Emory’s back. Gerard said, “I was there for almost all of it. With God as my witness, I swear to it.”

Skepticism still reigned supreme in the sergeant’s expression. “But how? How did you do it?”

A few other voices popped in with similar questions. He had breezed over that part before, not wanting to lose his audience with facts and figures and jargon, because it was a confession, not a research presentation before a lecture hall of his peers. But there was genuine curiosity not just on the sergeant’s face, but on many of the islanders’ faces as well.

“Do you really want to know?” Emory asked, self-conscious suddenly, which he found deeply silly, given that he was waiting to be cuffed for his crimes—some he had committed, others he hadn’t, but that was beside the point.

“I’m mighty curious,” said Joe, his former employer.

“I’d be interested to hear what you were doing up in my apartment all this time,” Regina said.

The rest of the room lit up with agreement.

Weighing his options, Emory turned back to Gerard. “Do you still have the dulcimer?”

He nodded. “You want to— Are you sure?”

He wasn’t, but there were some things in life you’d never be sure of, but you did them anyway or risk living with regret.

Emory addressed the crowd. “Look, if I tell you how I turned myself invisible, it has to stay in this room.”

Almost everyone nodded in agreement. They had no reason to trust him, and he had no reason to trust them, but doing so anyway was probably the scariest part about that Halloween.

Gerard left for a minute and then returned with the dulcimer. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” Somebody scooted a wooden chair up behind Gerard; its legs screeched. “I’ve never played it on this before.”

“It’ll be an experiment.” Emory smiled bravely.