Harris

by Sarah J DiFalco

  After all the girls had left, Becca, Harris, and Jackie sat in front of the television, flipping through channels.

  "I got a Ouija board for my birthday. You guys want to play?" Jackie asked.

  "That's a no for me," Becca answered, shaking her head.

  "Eh. Okay." Harris shrugged. She had never used a Ouija board, but had read about them. She remembered something about opening gates and burning sage.

  Jackie pulled the board out. The two girls sat with their fingers gently on the planchette. Becca watched on from the other side of the room.

  "Is anyone here? Any spirits want to speak to us?" Jackie asked.

  The girls watched the board. Nothing happened.

  "Hello. Spirits we want to speak to you. Move the Ouija board if you can hear us." Jackie tried again.

  The planchette shifted.

  "You're moving it," Harris accused Jackie.

  Jackie looked up smiling, eyes wide. "Am not. Seriously."

  The planchette moved again. It glided across the board quicker. It stopped pointing over the word 'yes'.

  "Oh my God. It's working," Jackie said. "Are you a good spirit?"

  The planchette backed up then moved sideways. 'No'.

  Harris looked up nervously.

  "It's fine." Jackie assured her. "What is your name?" she asked.

  The planchette picked up speed, stopping at the letters. 's-a-m'.

  "Sam." Harris looked up and smiled at Jackie.

  Jackie asked more. "Are you a boy or girl?"

  'g-i-r-l'.

  "Girl. Are you in heaven?"

  'No.'

  "Are you in hell?"

  'No.'

  "Where are you?"

  'h-e-r-e'.

  Concern washed over Jackie's face. She looked up at Harris. Harris smiled.

  Harris asked next. "Can you see us?"

  'yes.'

  "What color is my shirt?"

  'b-l-u-e'

  The girls looked down at Harris's blue shirt.

  "Are you evil?"

  'yes.'

  "Harris," Jackie interrupted nervously.

  Harris continued. "Tell us something about yourself."

  'k-i-s-s'

  "What?" Harris was confused.

  'b-l-o-n-d-e'

  'd-i-e'

  's-t-a-y'

  "Go away Sam. I'm done." Jackie's face was fearful yet stern. She pushed the planchette away and stood up.

  "Jackie, no. You aren't supposed to let go until you close the gate," Harris shouted.

  "I don't care. I'm done with this." Jackie threw the board back into the box.

  Becca came out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. "What did I miss? You're done?"

  "I am not having this weird ghost in my house. We are done with this game." Jackie huffed.

  Harris could feel her. Sam was still there, she was sure of it. "You should burn some sage or something," she told Jackie.

  Becca looked at the box on the couch, tossing popcorn into her mouth. She added "Or burn that whole damn board."

  Chapter Three

  "Mom, it isn't even like that. We are fine. Yes it was an amicable breakup. I have all of his sweatshirts, obviously. Yes Mom. Becca helped me get the last boxes in. We are. Okay Mom. Love you, too. Bye." Harris tossed her phone onto the couch.

  "My God it's like she never heard of a breakup. No one dumped anyone. We just broke up," Harris said, staring at the ceiling of her new apartment.

  "I know, but you guys were pretty serious. I mean, you moved in. There is usually a reason like, he cheated on me, or, I’m a lesbian now, or, he doesn't want to ever get married and I am not about that life," Becca replied.

  "Bec, I can't tell my mother. She is crazy enough as it is. Anyway, we basically did break up. He didn't want to get married, I did. I didn't dump him, we just decided it wouldn't work since we want different things."

  "No. You dumped him because you wanted different things. And you took all of his sweatshirts."

  "I earned them," Harris said with a grin.

  "And, you made me steal this thing," Becca knocked on the head of a three foot tall, wooden elephant that stood next to her. They both laughed.

  "I named him Kurt. Dylan doesn't deserve Kurt. Dylan sucks. Kurt needs a good home," Harris said matter of factly.

  "Haha, oooookay. Whatever you say Harris. Fine. An amicable breakup where you secretly steal a bunch of his shit to spite him. Hey, I’m on your side. He was kinda lame anyway, babe. Sorry not sorry."

  Harris grabbed two glasses off of the dining room table and disappeared into the kitchen. Back with the refilled wine glasses, she plopped on the couch next to Becca, handing her a glass. It was late, and they had just finished moving Harris's things into her new apartment. Boxes stacked behind the couch leaned toward the wall. Harris connected her phone to the television so they could stream some shows. They sipped wine and decompressed.

  A shadow zipped across the floor of the dim room. Harris froze for a moment, then looked over at Becca. Becca stared at the floor. Slowly, she turned her head toward Harris. They locked eyes, mirroring each other's expression of confusion and unease.

  "Did you-" Harris started, but stopped.

  "Did you?" Becca asked.

  Harris nodded in response. She knew Becca saw the same shadow. Too big for a rat, too small for anything else. Harris had no pets. It was a mystery as to what shadowy figure could have run across her floor, but the girls decided not to address it any further.

  "It's getting late. You want me to stay? If not, I should get home," Becca said.

  "No, it's fine. Go home. I worked you hard enough. Just call me tomorrow," Harris answered.

  "Okie. I'm outta here. Bye babe." Becca leaned down and hugged Harris goodbye. "Goodnight, don't let the new apartment bugs bite."

  Harris chuckled and waved to Becca as she headed out the door. Harris got up and locked the door behind her. Clicking some buttons on her phone, she disconnected her television. The room was dark. She headed for her bedroom.

  A king size bed was Harris's pride and joy. She negotiated the new bed purchase with Dylan while they were together. He didn't want to spend the money on a new bed, but Harris talked him into it. She'd be damned if she didn't take the bed with her. She worked hard to get it. Becca didn't appreciate having to help move it, but Harris had to have it.

  Harris changed into her old college shirt and some sweatpants, the official single twenty-something's bedtime uniform. She brushed her teeth, then came back to her huge, trophy-bed. Pulling back the covers, Harris couldn't help but smile. It wasn't so bad, separating from Dylan. They really did want different things and had been drifting apart for almost a year. It was a relief. Harris shut off the lights and climbed into bed.

  She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her social media. Another wedding. Lovely. More babies born. So cute. Wonder how Dylan is taking the breakup. He unfriended me? He BLOCKED me? Harris thought to herself while doing some sleuthing.

  "Ugh. Dick." She tossed her phone to the other side of the bed. Harris pulled the blanket up to her chin and shut her eyes. A glow seeped in through her eyelids. She opened one eye and noticed her phone was illuminated. Maybe a text, she thought. She sat up and grabbed her phone. No notifications. Just the home screen. That is weird.

  A shadow caught Harris's eye, again. She turned the phone away to shine it in the corner of the room, near the ceiling. A shadow in the corner seemed to be cast by nothing. She squinted. It moved. Quickly, she pressed her phone screen, scrolling to find her flashlight. The light beamed from her phone a bright white and she pointed it at the corner. As she looked up, a face looked back at her. The skin was tinted a sickly blue color. The eyes were blackened holes. A mouth hung awkwardly agape. Black hair fringed the forehead. Harris screamed.

  The thing vanished before Harris could move. She questioned if she had actually seen anything. Maybe it was too much wine. Harris shined the flashlight around the room. Nothing. She had a
stressful day. That was that, she decided.

  Pulling the blanket up to her ears, she closed her eyes. A soft scratching noise cut through the dark. Harris covered her face, and went to sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, the sun shone in through the uncovered window, directly onto Harris. She sat up, groggy still, and rubbed her eyes. The blinds sat on the ground below the window, waiting to be hung. Harris stretched and grabbed her phone. Three messages waited.

  Becca

  That dick blocked me on social media

  Mom

  Honey please call me. I have a bureau in the attic for you. Dad said he wants to buy you lunch. Love, Mom.

  Dylan

  You took my elephant. Also, your ninety pairs of flip-flops are still here. Want me to drop them off?

  "Uggghhhh," Harris groaned. She stood and headed for the bathroom. A voice came from the living room. Had she left the television on? She brushed her teeth then shuffled to the couch. She sat and stared at a blank screen. No sound came from there or her kitchen. She shuffled into the kitchen to get coffee.

  The Quick-Cups coffee maker forced out a cup of coffee in seconds, much to Harris's delight. Dylan would never buy one because they make too much waste. Harris considered that he must know about waste, since he wasted so much of her time in a pointless relationship. She chuckled to herself. The black coffee swirled with milk, creating a brown mixture from heaven.

  Before her first sip, an image flashed into Harris's mind. A face. A sickly face with hollowed out eyes. She thought about last night. Then she remembered the shadow that Becca saw, too.

  "Definitely haunted," Harris said aloud. She looked around her apartment, inspecting it. Growing up, her childhood home was haunted, she was sure of it. She had too many experiences, too many shadows, too many voices, too many faces she couldn't explain. She thought about it being a dream. Maybe all of those incidents were dreams. But there were just too many. It had to be real. She never felt alone in a room at her home. Now she wondered if her new apartment was haunted, too.

  "That would be my luck," she thought out loud once more.

  Harris sipped her hot coffee and spaced out at her dining table. The house was quiet and peaceful. A creaking groan came from the bedroom, cutting through the silence. A beeping tone from her cell phone pulled Harris's attention, a welcomed distraction.

  Dylan

  Where are all the mugs? Come on Harris really?

  Harris chuckled, looking out into the kitchen. A neat row of white coffee mugs lined the counter near the sink.

  She texted back.

  Haven't seen them.

  A memory flicked on in her mind. The coffee mugs triggered something. She remembered sitting in the kitchen with Dylan at their apartment.

  Dylan made coffee in his ancient coffee maker. Harris laughed and made a comment about the coffee maker being a priceless relic, and that was the reason Dylan wouldn't get rid of it. But then Dylan didn't laugh. He stood facing the counter, motionless.

  "Dylan? Right? Dylan, what are you doing?" Harris stood and cautiously approached him.

  She came around to Dylan who put his hand up to shush her. He pointed at the coffee mug. Very slowly, the mug was inching across the counter.

  "Is it slanted?" Dylan whispered as if his voice would startle the mug.

  "No. It's level," Harris replied, still fixated on the mug.

  The coffee mug continued it's path until it hit the edge of the counter. With a crash, it shattered on the floor.

  "That was weird, huh?" He looked at Harris.

  Harris had not yet her experiences in her haunted house growing up, or at her friends' possibly haunted houses either.

  "Yeah. Pretty weird." Harris started cleaning up the broken mug, while Dylan just stared, lost in his thoughts.

  Harris hesitated, then quickly texted back.

  Was our apartment haunted?

  Dylan

  What? Harris what are you talking about?

  She started to type, but erased it. Never mind, she thought. If her house was haunted, her friends' houses were haunted, Dylan's house, and now her apartment, it could only mean one thing. Something was up with this town. The whole town must be haunted. It made so much sense.

  A text came through.

  Mom

  Meet us at Barrio's at eleven please. Dad says hi.

  She forgot about lunch with her parents. Ugh perfect, she thought, and headed to her bedroom to get dressed. Walking toward her bedroom she paused. She turned around to watch the mug, in case it chose to slide across the table. Nothing. Maybe this house was not haunted. She headed off to get ready.

  Chapter Four

  Barrio's was a cheap Italian restaurant that Harris's parents loved, probably more than their own home. A birthday? Dinner at Barrio's. Anniversary? Barrio's. Funeral? Meet-up afterwards at Barrio's.

  Barrio's was decent, in spite of itself. The decor was over the top Italian. Italian flags, faux marble pedestals, polystyrene busts, and of course the ten foot long mural of gondolas in Venice created an "authentic" Italian dining experience.

  "How is Dylan? How are you? I feel like you've been ignoring us since the break up," Mrs. Haim dove right into the good stuff.

  "Jess, let the girl order first," Mr. Haim came to Harris's rescue.

  She wasn't ready to get into all the details, but she knew her parents wanted them. That was the point of lunch at Barrio's, today. She knew. "Mmm, the gnocchi is always good," Harris said looking at the menu, then shooting a smile at her dad.

  The food was acceptable, as usual. Harris's mother updated everyone on her book club gossip. Pamela told her husband that she quit but she was actually fired. Conversation died down and the plates were being cleared from the table. Harris knew her time was running out. It was like ripping off a bandage. She just had to get it done in one shot.

  "Dylan said he didn't want to get married. Ever. He said marriage was never in his life plan. Not to me or anyone. And no kids. Just, whatever it was, it would stay," Harris blurted out. She looked down at her plate.

  "What? Why wouldn't he marry you? That is ridiculous. I'm sorry but Dylan is ridiculous." Mrs. Haim looked flustered.

  "Well, you guys wanted different things. That is a reasonable cause for a break-up. Are you okay?" Mr. Haim was calmer than his wife.

  "I’m okay. I'm kind of pissed that I wasted four years with someone who never wanted to move forward, but I am doing okay."

  "Why wouldn't you talk about this before? How could this have never come up? You never talked about your future with him? Harris, that seems irresponsible," Mrs. Haim asked in that tone that reminded Harris that she wasn’t good enough.

  Harris sighed and took a big sip of her pinot noir. "I don't know. We just went with the flow, I guess. It never came up. Well, until now," Harris answered.

  Mrs. Harris clicked her tongue, but decided against responding. Harris felt better about being forward with her parents. Now they wouldn't have to speculate and worry. Everyone sat quietly. Mrs. Haim arranged the remaining silverware neatly when the waiter came over.

  "Coffee? Espresso?" the waiter asked, holding a mug in one hand.

  Mr. and Mrs. Haim gave their joyous, 'yes please' and the waiter disappeared. Harris thought about the mug.

  "Mom, Dad, I have a weird question. Did you ever notice anything weird happen in our house? Or any house really?" Harris threw her question out before she could change her mind.

  "Weird how? Once, we had a family of squirrels nesting in the attic. The exterminator who removed them said they collected a bunch of nuts and had filled an entire square meter with them by the time he found them. That was weird," Mrs. Haim laughed.

  Harris could tell by her father's expression that he immediately knew what she meant.

  "Dad?"

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked at the table. Harris waited patiently, chewing on her bottom lip.

  "There were...a few things. Weird things. You
would talk to this boy on the ceiling sometimes. You were so little, we thought you imagined him, but then you said some things..." Mr. Haim paused.

  "Mark," Mrs. Haim shot a look at her husband.

  "No, Jess she is old enough to know. I'm not going to hide it like some dirty little secret. It's all in the past and she is fine now. Look at her." He continued, "you said the boy was afraid. He was afraid of cars. He needed a new mommy and wanted to know if your mommy would be his mommy, too. He also said he was sorry for your brother."

  "My brother?" Harris didn't have a brother, but her mother's face filled her with doubt.

  "Before you, we lost a baby. We weren't very far along. Probably about twelve weeks. Mom didn't want to talk about it, so we didn't. We didn't think it would be important to you. For some reason, when you said the boy told you sorry-" Mr. Haim was interrupted.

  "I knew he meant the baby. Our baby. I knew he was a boy. I felt it. When you said that, Harris, it hit me so hard," Mrs. Haim was tearing up, her eyes blurred and red.

  Harris was stunned. She couldn't remember the boy at all. How had she forgotten? Her jaw hung open as she processed everything.

  "Weird things have always happened to me. I think our house was haunted," She finally said.

  "It has been quiet now. Maybe it was, or maybe that boy just liked you. I don't know. It all seems silly now," Mrs. Haim added.

  They finished their coffees in silence. Harris was hoping to get a weight off her shoulders. Now she felt as if the whole world had fallen onto them. After lunch, she had to call Becca, she thought. This was overwhelming. She felt like she was going crazy. How had her parents hid all of that from her? Her ghost, her brother? She was going to head to Greenbay for some shopping, reflecting, and hopefully a meetup with her best friend.

  Chapter Five

  Greenbay Ave. was busy as usual. A charming street lined with historic buildings and bustling storefronts, Greenbay was a favorite spot for locals to shop and talk. Becca and Harris were no exception, as they had spent hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars shopping on Greenbay Ave. They ended up at one of their favorite clothing stores on the block.