Gus stares at me. “They eat children?”
“Only in the desert,” Nat says, shaking her head. “In ancient times, when children wandered off, hyenas probably ate them. And people came up with folktales to scare kids into staying with their families.”
Sammy nods. “You’re probably right.” He winks at Gus and me. “Nat, there was another story about a ghoul you loved me to tell when you were little. Remember?”
There is a look in Nat’s eyes as she softens. “From A Thousand and One Nights, right?”
“ ‘The Story of Sidi-Nouman’!” she and Sammy say in unison.
Sammy turns to us. “Perhaps you’d like to hear it?”
Gus and I nod and settle into the old couch.
Sidi-Nouman was a young man of good birth and modest fortune. As is tradition among his people, he did not set eyes upon his wife-to-be until their wedding day. So he was enchanted to discover that she was beautiful in every way, and he looked forward to a long, happy married life.
But from their first meal together, Sidi-Nouman discovered something strange. Instead of eating her rice with a spoon like most people, his wife took a pin out of a small case she carried and ate only a few grains. The same with the other courses, from breads to meat.
Sidi-Nouman tried to convince her that they had money to spare, and she could eat her fill. But she continued to eat in this strange manner, not even enough to fill a sparrow.
This went on for days, with his new wife never answering him about her strange behavior.
Finally, one night, as Sidi-Nouman lay in bed, he felt his wife get up and dress herself and slip out of the house. He determined to follow her, and in the moonlight he saw her meet up with a female ghoul. He watched in horror as his wife and her hideous companion made their way to the cemetery, where they dug up a corpse that had been buried that very day and feasted on her flesh, cheerfully chatting all the while. When they had finished, they threw the remains back in the grave and replaced the dirt, which they had disturbed so terribly.
In great distress, Sidi-Nouman returned to his home, a plan forming in his head. His wife, her appetite for human flesh sated, returned to join him, none the wiser.
The next night, his ghoulish bride was picking at her food as usual, when he said to her, “Amina, my love, I offer you the choicest of foods, none of which you seem to enjoy. Is it possible that there is none among them that tastes as sweet as the flesh of a corpse?”
No sooner had Sidi-Nouman uttered these words than Amina, seized with fury upon being discovered, grabbed a vessel of water, and plunging her hand in it, murmured some words under her breath. Then, sprinkling the water on his face, she cried madly: “Wretch, receive the reward of your prying, and become a dog.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, poor Sidi-Nouman found himself transformed into a dog, which his wretched wife began to beat with a stick. Happily for him, he was able to escape from the house, with only a sore tail to show for it.
Howling in pain, the poor animal wandered the streets, attacked by other dogs and kicked by merchants and travelers alike. Finally, a kindly baker took pity on the wounded creature, giving him shelter and a few crusts of bread to eat. The baker called him Rufus, and greatly enjoyed the company of his new friend and companion.
One day, a woman came in to buy bread, and one of the coins she paid with was a false one. She refused to admit it, and as a joke, the baker said, “It is such a bad imitation that even my dog would not be taken in. Here, Rufus! Rufus!”
Rufus jumped onto the counter. The baker threw down the woman’s money before him and said, “Find out if there is a bad coin.” Rufus laid his paw on the false one, surprising both the baker and his customer, who produced another coin in its place.
Of course news of such a dog spread throughout the village, and soon all were bringing their coins to see if Rufus could spot the fake one, which he could at every try.
This went on for some time, until one day a woman who had never been in the store put six coins on the counter and Rufus, as always, found the false coin. She gazed at him for some time, and then left the shop making a sign for him to follow her secretly.
Rufus waited until the baker was occupied at his oven and slipped out the door. He found the woman, who took him to her home, where a beautiful girl was working at a piece of embroidery. “My daughter!” exclaimed the woman. “I have brought you the famous dog belonging to the baker that can tell good money from bad. You know that when I first heard of him, I told you I was sure he must be a man, changed into a dog by magic.”
“You are right, Mother,” replied the girl, who got up and dipped her hand into a vessel of water. Sprinkling it over Rufus, she said, “If you were born dog, remain dog; but if you were born man, by virtue of this water resume your proper form.”
In one moment the spell was broken. The dog’s shape vanished as if it had never been, and it was a man who stood before the woman and her daughter.
Sidi-Nouman told them his whole story, and finished by begging the mother to let him return the favor.
“Sidi-Nouman,” said the daughter, “say no more about the obligation you are under to us. The knowledge that we have been of service to you is ample payment. Let us speak of Amina, your wife, with whom I was acquainted before her marriage. She and I studied magic under the same mistress. Please do not concern yourself with repaying us. But it is not enough to have broken your spell—Amina must be punished for her wickedness. Remain for a moment with my mother, I beg you,” she added. “I will return shortly.”
The daughter soon came back with a small bottle in her hand.
She told Sidi-Nouman, “Go home, then, without delay, and await Amina’s return in your room. When she enters the house, go to meet her. In her surprise, she will try to run away. Have this bottle ready, and dash the water it contains over her, saying boldly, ‘Receive the reward of your crimes.’ That is all I have to tell you.”
Sidi-Nouman did as the girl told him, and he had not been in my house many minutes before Amina returned. As she approached the bedroom, he stepped in front of her, with the water in his hand.
Amina gave one loud cry and turned to the door, but she was too late—Sidi-Nouman had already dashed the water in her face and spoken the magic words. Amina disappeared, and in her place stood a horse! Sidi-Nouman ordered the horse to be taken to his stables. From that day forward, he rode the horse, and treated her well, although she had been so terrible to him.
* * *
As Sammy finishes the story, he leans back in his chair and takes a swig of water.
I look over at Nat, who is sitting with her legs pulled up, hugging them to her chest.
Gus rubs his eyes. “That was one heck of a bedtime story! I wouldn’t sleep for a week if my grandpa told me that!”
Sammy shrugs. “It has a happy ending. And a nice dog.”
“And it’s a fairy tale!” Nat says. “That stuff is all made up.”
Sammy nods. “True, my little scientist. Still, I keep waiting for a nice golden retriever to show up and help me count out my change!”
I swallow hard, with Sammy’s great gray eyes peering down at me under his bushy eyebrows.
Then he bursts into laughter. “But don’t listen to me! My granddaughter is the smart one in the family.”
Before Nat can answer, there is a knock on the door. Luuk peers in.
“There you are!” he says, beaming. “We’ve been looking for you! We were afraid you were spirited away by ghosts!”
Sammy rises and ushers us out into the bustling store. “Please excuse my keeping them from you. I was just—”
“Telling us some old corny jokes,” Nat says, shutting down the conversation.
We head to the door.
“So what brings you to Brooklyn, if you don’t mind?” Sammy asks. As soon as he hears
that Luuk teaches at Utrecht University he looks excited. “Are you aware that the Dutch were the first settlers from Europe in Brooklyn?”
“After the Native Americans,” Nat says.
“Darling, I said from Europe,” her grandfather says evenly.
Daan looks up from the bag of nuts he has been devouring. “Of course. We were here first. By rights this should still be New Amsterdam.”
“And did you know there was a New Utrecht here?” Sammy asks triumphantly, “And even now there is a New Utrecht High School, which has been there for more than one hundred years.”
Luuk looks delighted. “Where is it? Perhaps I could visit!”
Daan checks his watch. “I don’t think we have time. Your lecture is in five hours and we have to get back to the apartment and shower and change, and you need to rehearse.”
Luuk rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mama.”
It’s weird hearing them talk about going back to “the apartment” and realizing that they mean the place where I live. The other thing I realize is that after staying here just one day, Luuk and Daan are starting to feel like friends.
Nat and Gus walk us back to “the apartment.” After Daan and Luuk go in, I linger with Nat and Gus on the stoop, sharing some chocolate-covered cashews (we never leave Haddad’s empty-handed). Fun fact: before going in, Luuk told us that “stoop” is actually from the Dutch word for “steps.” It goes back to Amsterdam, where steps protected the houses from floods, since so much of the city is on low-lying land.
“Your grandfather sure knows a lot about Brooklyn,” Gus says casually.
Nat perches on the railing. “And he sure loves to talk about it.”
We sit there, thinking of everything Sammy has said.
“So…,” Gus begins. “What if there’s another knock on your door tonight?”
Nat jumps off the railing and pushes him. “You’re really not helping things.” She turns to me. “Danny, please tell me you understand these are all probably just coincidences and things in your head, right?”
“Maybe,” I say. “But isn’t it a little weird that the memory card failed, and my mom wasn’t able to—”
Nat holds up her hands. “Stop. This is what happens. Memory cards fail all the time. It happened at my nephew’s christening. And your mom’s laptop crashes all the time. You’re always complaining about it.”
She has a point. “Okay, what about the other stuff?” I ask.
“We put things together because they fit what we want to think. You wouldn’t think twice about these things if you hadn’t been thinking about ghosts and stuff. Stop it, Gus, that’s disgusting.”
Gus is picking a piece of cashew out of his teeth. “So you think Danny just imagined the other stuff, like the knocking?”
Nat looks at me.
“I’m not nuts,” I say. “It felt really real. I swear I wasn’t dreaming.”
“Yeah, well…just don’t freak out. Tell yourself this isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Or that there’s a logical explanation. Because there is.”
I look out onto the street. The early-autumn Brooklyn sunshine dapples the leaves on the trees. “Everything you say sounds great now. I just hope I feel the same way tonight.”
Gus laughs. “Yeah, good luck with that, buddy.”
I am still up when Luuk and Daan quietly turn the key in the lock. Mom and Dad went to bed and left them a note, along with a bottle of wine for them to celebrate with.
I hear them shushing each other as they take off their jackets and ties. I wander into the kitchen.
“You’re still up!” Luuk says pleasantly as he takes something wrapped in foil out of his bag. He indicates it. “Some very good cheese left over from the reception, and crackers. We thought your mama and papa would enjoy them.”
These are two of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever met.
There is a small sighing noise as Daan eases the cork from the bottle of wine. “A California cabernet! How did your parents know we love cabernet?”
“I think you mentioned it this morning at breakfast,” I say. “My mom bought some for her and my dad as well.”
Daan takes out three glasses. He pours some in two and turns to me. “Will you join us?”
“I’m not allowed to drink,” I say, kind of shocked. “I’m only thirteen.”
“Please forgive Daan,” Luuk says. “We are used to Europe. Babies drink over there.”
I laugh.
“He’s serious!” Daan says. “You put a little on your finger and give it to them when they’re teething! And then, when you’re older, Mama or Papa lets you finish their glass.”
Luuk takes a sip. “It’s really very good. I need to remember to tell your parents.” He looks at me. “So what is keeping you up so late? Playing video games, I expect?”
“Actually, I wanted to hear how your speech went,” I lie. The truth is that I just couldn’t fall asleep. I kept thinking about Sammy’s stories about flesh-eating ghouls, and everything that’s happened since we decided to rent out the bedroom.
Luuk shrugs. “It went okay. Some people seemed to like it.”
Daan gives Luuk a big hug. “He is being modest. It was a huge success. Everyone told me it was the most brilliant presentation of the whole conference.”
Luuk says something to Daan in Dutch. Either that or he’s clearing his throat. It’s hard to tell sometimes.
Daan looks over at me. “I was not exaggerating, Danny. You know I tell the truth. We Daans have to stick together, right?”
“Right,” I say, grinning. They really are like two big kids sometimes.
Luuk yawns. “Well, we have an early flight tomorrow. It’s too bad our visit is so short. Maybe next time we stay a few more days, yes?”
“You’re coming back?” I ask.
“I would come back just to go to that amazing store!” Daan says.
They head to their room after making sure I’m done in the bathroom. Thoughtful as ever.
I suddenly feel very tired. Like having the two of them in the house protects it, somehow. Even though last night there was that knocking. I’m pretty sure I can make it through tonight without any more weird dreams.
I pass out as soon as I hit my bed, and sleep better than I have in days. I don’t remember any dreams, and if someone had knocked on my door, I was so out I didn’t hear it. The next thing I know, I’m smelling bacon and seeing light under my door.
It’s funny, having spent almost every night of my life sleeping in here. Whenever we go anywhere (like when we visit relatives), it’s hard for me to sleep in a room with a window. I’m just not used to it.
I stretch, get out of bed, and open the door to see my parents and Luuk and Daan already at the table.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” my mom calls out.
“How do you say ‘sleepyhead’ in Dutch?” my dad asks Luuk.
“Same thing, pretty much,” he says. “We say slaapkop.”
I join them and take a plate. “It sounds funnier in Dutch.”
“Everything sounds funnier in Dutch!” says Daan. “You know those mushrooms that you put in pasta—what are they in English again?”
Luuk has clearly heard this before. “Porcini.”
Daan nods. “You know them, yes?”
“Of course,” my mom says. “We love them.”
“We call them eekhoorntjesbrood, which literally means ‘little squirrel’s bread’!”
While I think this is cute, my parents think it is the funniest thing in the world.
My dad wants to write it down. “I bet even Sammy doesn’t know that!”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Luuk says. “That man knows more about food than anyone I’ve ever met.”
There is a buzzing noise and Daan checks his phone. “Ach! That is a text
telling me our car will be here in two minutes! We really need to get going!”
He jumps up and heads to the door. I see that their suitcases are already packed and ready to go.
Luuk sighs and bows to my mother. “Maureen, thank you again for such a lovely visit.”
“Did you like the wine?” she asks anxiously. “I don’t know much about it. I asked at the store.”
“It was superb,” Daan says, helping Luuk with his coat.
As they rush to leave, promises are made that if we are ever in Holland we must let them know, and of course they will keep in touch.
The door closes and there is quiet.
It’s odd. I thought that having guests would be the worst thing possible.
“I’m going to miss them,” I say.
My dad nods. “I know. It’s funny, isn’t it?”
My mom is rinsing the dishes. “I’m afraid they’ve spoiled us. I have a feeling not all our guests are going to be so nice.”
That night at dinner my mom laughs to herself. My dad asks what’s up.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” my mom says. “I was just remembering something Daan said….”
This sets off a recitation of all the clever things our houseguests said, how thoughtful they were, and how sophisticated.
Oh, swell.
Now that Jake is gone and we have the whole AirHotel thing squared away, we’ll spend every dinner talking about somebody else.
I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “I have homework to do. Is it okay if I go to my room?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” my mom says. “Just don’t stay up too late. Daan told me you were up when they came home last night.”
“You really need to get your sleep,” my dad adds. “Especially on a weekday.”
I want to tell them that it’s hard to sleep when there’s something going on in this apartment that’s totally creeping me out, but I know they’ll just say I’ve got to get used to the new situation.
I put in my earbuds, crank up some music on my phone, and lose myself in taking notes for a paper I need to write for English. It’s about this play called The Crucible that Mrs. Yuli has been reading out loud.
The Ghost in Apartment 2R Page 7