by B. G. Thomas
She climbed into the car and started it, put on her seat belt, adjusted her mirror, looked, and pulled out of her parking space. “Are you Mike Ellsworth?”
He gasped. “H-How did you know?”
A small smile crept to her lips, and she gave a tiny nod. “I don’t know. I just did. You’re Joel Kauffman’s lover.”
He stiffened, then relaxed. “I—I am.” First time he’d ever said it. And it was as a ghost. To a cop.
“Last week—you told me to tell him that you loved him.”
He nodded, realized once more that she couldn’t see him, and answered, “Yes. I did.”
“I didn’t appreciate the way you did that.”
“Sorry. I’m new at this. I’ve only been… dead… a week? Is that what you said?” He’d lost a week?
“Yes.”
“Damn. Something weird happened to time….”
Brookhart stopped the car at a red light and then actually turned in his direction. “All kinds of weird shit is happening.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, thinking of dying and teleporting and old women and bright light and ghost-filled salvage yards.
“You know you’re not dead, right? I mean, I thought you were. That’s what I told your lover. Joel. Sweet kid. But then I found out that they’d revived you. Had you on machines….” There was a honk behind her, and she glared into her rearview mirror. Started the car in motion again. “I called him right away when I found out they revived you. Surprised the shit out of me. No doctor, but damn. Now I wish I hadn’t told your friend. He’s been at the hospital all week, talking to you, reading to you, telling you jokes.”
Mike closed his eyes, rubbed at them, and fought back a sudden sob.
“You’re not dead and… you are.”
“Yes,” he managed. “Those machines… the ones that are keeping my body alive. I think they’re….” He paused, grasping for the words for something there really were no words for. A science they didn’t teach in school or on anywhere except horror movies and maybe that silly show Ghost Hunters.
“Is that how you’re here? The machines are keeping you… anchored somehow?”
“Yes!” he said. That was it. “I think so. How are you taking this so calmly?”
She shook her head and gave a sigh. “Weird things have been happening to me lately. I’ve seen some weird fucking shit. Shit you wouldn’t believe….” She laughed. “Then again, you might.”
“Tell me about that,” he replied. “I saw an old dead lady, and after we talked, she went into this light to be with her husband. Then I was in a salvage yard, and there were more ghosts. Lots of them. All crowding around me. I thought I would go crazy. Hell. Maybe I am crazy.”
“I can imagine….”
“Can you?” he asked.
“Like I said… I’ve seen some crazy shit. Would you believe voodoo gods?”
“Really?” Mike said. Voodoo gods? Gods? But then, who was he to question?
“What happened then?” she asked. “To those ghosts.”
“I helped them,” he said, and shuddered. “Helped them see they were dead. Then one by one, they… went away.”
“I see. Well….” She laughed again. “I don’t see anything.”
“I wish there were some things I couldn’t see. Like Joel crying in the hospital. It was horrible. And my wife?” He let out a laugh. “I’ve been feeling so guilty for what I’ve been doing with Joel, and yet the happiest I’ve ever been in my….” He almost said “life.” He went on. “Guess what? She’s having an affair! And from what I’ve been able to figure out, I think we both started cheating at the same time.” He shook his head. “Quite a pair, my wife and I, huh, Brookhart?”
“Daphne. If you’re going to talk to me from beyond, then at least call me by my first name.”
“If you’ll call me Mike.”
“Why the hell not?” She shook her head.
“I’d shake your hand but…,” Mike said.
“Yeah. Except it wouldn’t work?”
“Not that I’ve been able to figure out.”
They drove for a while in silence, and then she asked, “You still there, Mike, old boy?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Still here.”
“Why are you here?” she said. “With me, that is? Why’d you come to me?”
“Because you’re the only one who can hear me,” he exclaimed. “Why is that? How can you hear me?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe seeing flaming voodoo shit did something to me.”
“I’m just glad you can,” Mike said.
“Can’t say I agree with you, Mikey.”
He sighed. He hated to be called “Mikey,” but somehow, right now that seemed to be the last thing in the world he needed to worry about. What was that popular book a few years ago? Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff? And a nickname really was small stuff, wasn’t it?
“What do you want? Is it just to chat? Because I’m betting it’s something else.”
His breath caught, and he let it out slowly. “Yeah. Something else.”
“You want me to talk to Joel, don’t you?” She flashed him a look—even if she couldn’t see him.
“Yes,” he said. “Please. I’ll go away then. At least from you. I promise. Help me out, and I’ll never bother you again.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for me to talk to him? Couldn’t it make things worse? And how do you know he will even believe me?”
Mike bit his lip. Hard. He barely felt it. “I don’t see how it could be much worse. And wouldn’t you want to hear from someone who… well… died? Someone you loved?” It was certainly clear now how much Joel loved him. He didn’t deserve such love. No. Don’t think about that. “You ever have any unfinished business you wish you would have taken care of?”
She gave a slight jolt, her hands gripping the steering wheel, then relaxing. She was quiet for a long moment, and just as Mike was about to say something, she finally did. “My sister. She died. We’d been fighting. Bad fighting, Mikey. She called me some… names. I called her some back. Then she… she died.”
Were Brookhart’s eyes getting wet? Cast-iron Brookhart? Was he making her cry? The powers of being a ghost!
“I always wished I could’a said I was sorry. Wished I could have told her….”
“I’ll bet she knew,” Mike said.
“How do you know that?” she snapped. “My brother says the same frigging shit, but how do you know a thing like that?”
“Things are… different here,” he tried to explain. “Perceptions. If she didn’t just go directly to wherever we’re supposed to go, if she hung around, I’m sure she was trying to tell you she loved you.”
She stiffened again, relaxed. “You think?”
“I do.”
“She—she isn’t hanging around now, is she?”
“No,” Mike said. “I don’t think so. There’s no one hanging around you that I see….”
Brookhart let out a long sigh.
“Look,” Mike said. “I need to tell Joel something. He’ll believe you. But I have to tell him. And I have to tell Lori something too.”
She shot him a look, then got a frustrated expression on her face. “This hearing you and not seeing you sucks!”
“Believe me, I understand. Seeing people but them not being able to hear me sucks pretty bad too.”
She let out another long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this….”
Mike sat up straight. “You’ll do it?”
“Do I really have a choice? I mean, if’n I don’t want to worry about you showing up in the ladies’ locker room again. Did you see anything, Mikey? Get your jollies?”
Mike laughed. “Not hardly!”
Now she was laughing. “I know. I’m too skinny. That’s what Townsend tells me all the time.”
“Townsend’s fat,” he replied. “And that’s not it. You’re fine for a…. I’m gay, Brookhart…. Daphne.” He’d done
it. Really done it. Said he was gay out loud. And she was the only person on earth who could hear him.
“Thank God. It’s the only reason I’m not squicking out myself.”
“Squicking?”
“Never mind.”
“So you’ll do it?” Mike asked, trying not to squeak like a little girl.
“Like I said, it’s that or worry about you showing up when I’m showering.”
And he was so excited, the “swish” thing happened, and he was there, right there, with Joel.
18
JOEL WAS slumped back in a chair. Asleep? Where? Mike looked around him.
A waiting room. He’s not in my room. He looked back at his lover. His beautiful lover.
He was lying back, head resting, and it took a moment for Mike to figure out if he was indeed asleep or not. But then Joel shifted and sat up just enough for him to see the puffy, red eyes.
Mike wanted to throw himself on his knees before him, beg him to be able to hear. Hear in his voice. Hear how much he adored him. How he didn’t know if he could keep…. Keep what? Living? Keep living without him? Well, that wasn’t right, was it?
He went to Joel anyway. He did get down on his knees. He reached out and touched his hands, with those veins on their backs, the light spattering of hair, those perfectly trimmed nails. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t feel the soft skin, the silky hair, the warmth of him. Didn’t matter that he was like a bronze statue. He had to touch him.
“I love you, Joel. I love you more than… more than anything.”
Joel sighed. “I love you, Mike.”
Mike started, looking up into those beautiful brown eyes. Had Joel heard him? But they were staring blindly, and Mike figured it was far more likely that Joel was just saying the words. Words that both warmed and hurt his heart.
If only he had told Joel. Done something about it! Told Lori a thousand years ago why he wasn’t the lover she deserved. Was it why she had sought out a lover herself? Had she needed someone to love her and make love to her the way he had needed?
Was he a piece of cheating shit?
Or maybe… maybe he was just human? Or at least he had been?
Well, now he had a chance. If not for him, at least for Joel.
For Lori. To give his blessing?
That’s when she arrived. She cleared her throat.
Both Mike and Joel looked up.
But it wasn’t Detective Brookhart.
It was Lori.
She looked stunning. Of course. Every hair in its place. The dress was a dark blue instead of the bright colors she usually wore this time of year. Appropriate. Her makeup was perfect too, wasn’t it?
No. Wait. It wasn’t. It was smeared around her eyes. She’d been crying.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m….”
Joel looked like he might bolt.
She held up a hand. “No,” she said. “It’s okay. May I sit?”
Joel trembled, then nodded. “S-Sure.”
She did, like a lady, folding her hands over her lap so the skirt wouldn’t ride too high. Joel looked at her, his eyes filled with, perhaps, the very questions on Mike’s lips. “I’m Lori Ellsworth.”
“I—I know who you are.” He glanced away, trembling.
Mike felt like he was dying. Crazy.
“And you are?”
Mike looked back at her.
“I’m Joel.”
“Joel?”
“Joel Kauffman.”
“Any relation to the—”
“N-no,” he said. “God decided to…. To g-give me to the….” He stopped, unable to finish his old joke. “Not related.”
“So…,” she continued. “I…. You’re the young man who’s been sitting with Mike?”
“I… what? Why would…?”
“You are the young man who’s been sitting with Mike.” This time there was no question in her voice. “One of the nurses. She told me how you sit with him for hours. You read to him.”
Joel sat up. “I….” His voice caught, full and thick. He coughed. Cleared his throat. “Yes.”
It was surreal. Watching. Not being able to add to the conversation. Once again feeling like a voyeur. Like he was some kind of Peeping Tom. Spying on them. He should leave. But how could he? How the hell could he?
“They asked me if you were his brother,” Lori said. “Mike doesn’t have a brother.”
“N-no,” Joel said.
She gave a nod, looked down at her hands, then up at him. “The nurse said Mike was…. She said she thought you were his… friend.”
Joel swallowed and nodded back. “I—” His voice caught again. “I am.”
Lori wet her lips with her tongue. “We’ve never met.”
Joel shook his head. “I live here in Kansas City. We met in one of his classes.”
She bobbed her head once. “I see. And you’ve known him for how long?”
“A year,” he said. “We got to know each other about a year ago.”
“In a class,” she replied.
“Yes.”
“He’s your… you two are close?”
Joel nodded stiffly and gripped the arms of his chair.
God. He was a terrible liar. But that was one of the many things Mike loved about Joel. He was the definition of honest. Honest people made terrible liars.
“Mike never mentioned you.”
“Oh?” Joel said, his voice cracking.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Hmmmm…. He talked about you a lot. Told me you were beautiful.”
Lori’s throat made a funny little sound. Not a gasp. Not a sigh. Something in between?
“Perfect is what he said. He was right. You are. Perfect.”
“Mike said that?”
“Yes,” Joel said. He sat up taller, and Mike heard Joel’s back pop. Waiting room chairs. Torture devices. Mike had sat in one or two. He could imagine how Joel’s back must hurt, and he longed to rub it. But he couldn’t, of course. Couldn’t comfort him in any way. And there was Lori, of course. Just what was she doing? Why was she talking to Joel?
But a part of him knew. Friend. The way she said it. The way the nurse had said it.
“Do you want to get some coffee, Joel?”
“Coffee?”
“Or how about something a whole lot stronger?”
Joel trembled again. “I think that sounds good.”
Lori stood. Perfection.
Joel stood. Beauty.
“I saw a little bar just kitty-corner across the way.”
“Okay,” he said. And they turned and left.
Mike stood. No! Wait! Brookhart would be here any minute.
But they were gone.
Mike decided to wait. As much as he wanted to hear what Lori and Joel would be talking about, he needed to wait. He had to get Brookhart to them. At least he knew where they would be.
He turned back to the chair and almost sat on a woman who hadn’t been there before. She was covered in bandages, and he couldn’t imagine why she had been let out of her room….
Mike gave a soft moan.
Oh God. She’s dead. Of course she is. I’m in a hospital. The place would be filled with ghosts, wouldn’t it?
He looked up, looked around the room.
There were more of them now. Bloody, broken, hobbling, shuffling…. An African American man, his white shirt bright with blood; an old man, half dragging a broken leg; a woman walking and pulling an IV pole behind her like a reluctant dog on a leash. She looked familiar.
It hit him. He’d seen her (a week ago?) on the street when all of this had first happened.
Dead! They’re all dead!
And if they realize I can see them!
That’s when he saw Brookhart. He was at her side so fast, he thought it might have done his “swish” thing. “We have to get out of here.”
Brookhart jumped. “Dammit,” she hissed. “You have to stop fucking doing that!”
“Sorry. But I hav
e to get out of here. The dead, Daphne. They’re everywhere. If they know that I can see them….”
She nodded. “But what about Joel?”
“He’s with Lori—”
“Oh, boy…. He’s with your wife?”
“They went for a drink. Across the street.”
She nodded. “I know the place. A lot of their customers wind up here. Let’s—”
Mike didn’t hear the rest of what she was saying. He was
—Swish—
already in the bar.
19
THE TWO of them were standing at the bar, Lori waving for the bartender. In charge, of course. “What do you want?” she asked.
“I—I don’t know….”
She clenched her jaw. It was subtle. If Mike hadn’t known her for years, he wasn’t sure he would have seen it. “What would you get if you were here with Mike?”
“A rum and coke,” Joel said.
She turned to the bartender. “A rum and coke for my fr—”
“Johnnie Walker Black,” Joel said.
Lori flashed him a look. Interesting. Her expression almost slipping. It didn’t take knowing her for years to see that one. “Want to up the game?”
“Excuse me?”
“Live a little? How about getting something better instead?”
Joel got an almost hurt expression on his face. “Johnnie Walker Black isn’t good?”
Then Lori surprised Mike again. She smiled. “Sure it is,” she assured Joel. She’d done what Mike had seen her do hundreds of times: read Joel’s face like a book. “Mike loved the Black. But when the mood struck, he’d get something even better, okay?” She looked back at the bartender. “What do you have in a really good whisky?”
The bartender told her.
She nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Two,” she said. Then looked back at Joel. “Doubles?”
“What the hell, live a little,” he said, and his voice caught.
What I always said, Mike thought.
“Mike says that a lot,” Lori said.
Joel agreed.
The bartender handed them their glasses, and Lori paid, along with a generous tip. The bartender raised his brows. “Thank you, ma’am.”