Harris

by Sarah J DiFalco

  "Gracie! What is wrong with you?" June yelled at her. "Harris, I'm sorry. Gracie has no boundaries apparently. Welcome to Cargal City. You ever need anything, ask away."

  "It's okay. I like her directness, I guess," Harris shrugged, not bothered by it at all. "And thank you."

  "How are you liking Saunders? It's nuts, right?" Liam asked, gesturing invitingly to an open seat at the table.

  "No, it's good. I'm used to working alone. I'm a graphic designer, so I only really interact with customers through email and video-chat. It is kind of nice. It's different." Harris blushed.

  "Graphic design. Can you draw me?" Marco was back with Harris's drink. June rolled her eyes at him.

  "I mean, yeah I could, but that's not really what I do, usually. People want logos, video game covers, ad layouts. Sometimes people want product packaging images. I get requests for book covers. People don't usually ask for portraits," Harris said, chuckling.

  "Wait, so you can though. Okay, I'm commissioning you, or whatever. I'll buy your drinks for the next ten Boxer nights, and you draw me like one of your French girls," Marco said, leaning his elbow on the table, attempting a saucy pose. He winked at her.

  "How can I say no to an offer like that?" Harris answered. She held up her phone and snapped a picture of Marco. "On that note, I'll take another beer, thank you." She held up her empty glass at Marco. He bowed and headed to the bar.

  * * *

  It was reaching the early morning hours. Gracie walked with Harris along the now desolate sidewalks. Cars occasionally sped by. A few people were still walking about, but it was empty in comparison to the daytime life, or even earlier in the night.

  "Marco is into you," Gracie said, smirking.

  "What? No. He is just a flirt. I know his type," Harris said, followed by a yawn.

  "No. Well yeah, you're right about him, but he is different with you. The way he smiles. I'm telling you, I have known Marco for a long time. We went to school together."

  Harris shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, he's cute. I'm not really looking for anything right now. I just ended a long relationship."

  "It's cool. I get it. Just know your options are there," Gracie said, laughing. "If you can call Marco an option." She laughed more.

  They arrived at Harris's apartment. Harris looked around at the empty sidewalks. Three guys laughed and made a lot of noise, across the street. They were riled up, probably drunk.

  "Hey, just crash here. You can't walk home alone," Harris implored.

  Gracie looked thoughtful. She watched the men walk down the street and pause at the intersection. They stood there for a few minutes, before turning the corner.

  "Okay, cool. Thanks," Gracie said.

  Upstairs, Harris brought out a change of clothes, a pillow, and a blanket for Gracie. "You need anything? Want to watch TV or something?" Harris asked.

  "Yeah sure. Want to watch something? I think that stupid house buying show is on with reruns at this hour," Gracie offered.

  "Home Hunt Holly? Um, yes. I'm in."

  "The home is beautiful. It is the perfect size. I love the layout. It's my dream location. The price is low, buuuutt, I hate the color of the bedroom," a slender woman with a blonde pouf of hair spoke on the TV.

  "Oh my God. Really?" Harris rolled her eyes, laughing.

  "Yeah, it is a bit bold. Well, I have another property, it is significantly more, a little out of the area, but it is the same size and the color palette is beautiful. I think you will love it Karen," Home Hunt Holly answered. She wore a perfectly tailored skirt and blazer, but a screen printed t-shirt underneath. A chunky necklace hung around her neck.

  "JUST PAINT THE DAMN ROOM, KAREN!" Gracie yelled at the TV.

  Gracie and Harris groaned then laughed at the absurdity of Harris's favorite reality show.

  "So, real question. What happened to your family? Like, was there an accident, or..." Gracie asked bluntly. Harris didn't mind her openness. It reminded her of Becca, in a way. She decided to be open, too. If Gracie was put off, then she was put off. Somehow, she felt that Gracie wasn't put off by anything.

  "Please don't repeat this to anyone. I don't know how people will see me. It is crazy," Harris sat up and faced Gracie. "My whole life, weird stuff has happened. I saw things. I dreamt things. I thought my house was haunted. I'm pretty sure it was. But then stuff happened in other places, my friend's house, my school, my apartment. The town is super old." Harris felt her heart quicken. She was nervous, but there was no turning back now.

  "The town was haunted, is haunted. It was pretty bad. Like scary bad. Becca, my best friend. They said she killed herself. She committed suicide off a bridge. Listen, I know what they say, but Becca would never do that. She was my other half. Something made her jump, or pushed her. I know it's crazy." Harris looked away, her cheeks warmed.

  Gracie was quiet for a moment. "I believe you. I mean, you would know your best friend. I've seen some shit, too," she finally answered. She looked in the direction of the TV, but not to watch the show. She was almost looking through it

  That went well, Harris thought. What the hell, why not? "My mother was murdered in her house. I found her body in the closet. The same day my father died in a mysterious car accident. I feel the same about them. There is something evil in that town. It was all around us."

  Gracie nodded in understanding. "And your boyfriend?"

  "Oh I dumped him because he told me he never wanted to get married or anything."

  Gracie squinted at Harris. "That douchebag."

  Harris laughed. Despite the bomb she just dropped on her new friend, everything seemed normal. Gracie just listened and believed. Harris had found a new friend. She was off to a great start. New town, new job, and new friend who could have possibly been her soulmate, after Becca of course. Things were looking up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Closing tonight," June yelled across the cafe. She wiped down a table. She was yelling to a man standing at the door. His face was stubbled but his hair was clean and neatly trimmed. He had intense eyes. The kind of eyes that girls fall into and never get out.

  "Babe, this was planned like a month ago. You couldn't ask for off?" He yelled back, approaching her.

  "I'm sorry Jordan, but I just forgot to ask Gretchen to keep me off tonight. I can't change it now," June looked apologetic.

  "Why are you guys even open this late. It's a coffee shop?" Jordan complained.

  "An crngssantsh!" Marco yelled out from behind the counter, croissant crumbs spraying from his overstuffed mouth.

  "Shut up Marco. Wait, cover for me!" June pleaded.

  "No can do. I leave in an hour and I got me some plans. The lady type of plans." Marco pretended to comb his hair back and slipped the invisible comb into his back pocket.

  "I'll cover," Harris jumped in.

  "Harris, you couldn't. Could you? You've never closed. Right?" June asked.

  "I closed with Marco last week," she answered.

  "Yeah? Maybe you could. You saw him count the register, slip the money in the safe, and run the sanitizer? You saw all that? But no one else will be here. I was closing alone," June said with doubt.

  "No, I can do it. I worked the cafe in college. I have closed before. It's almost the same routine. I will be fine. Go. Have fun at your date thing or whatever," Harris insisted.

  "Oh my God Harris thank you!" June squealed. She ran to the back to finish up what she could and came back without her apron. "I owe you big time."

  Harris waved her hand to shoo the couple out the door. "Bye," she said with a smile.

  Marco brought a steaming coffee to a customer in a far booth. Harris watched him as he smiled, chatting up the guy. Marco looked over at her and winked, before saying something that made the customer laugh loudly. He came back behind the counter near Harris.

  "You sure you're good? I can stay. You shouldn't be alone. What about the late customers?" Marco asked, concerned.

  "Please. The only customers we get at
night are drunk girls sobering up and weirdo writers trying to pump out a novel while stealing WiFi." Harris smirked, moving her eyes toward the customer in the back booth, clattering away on his laptop keyboard.

  "If you're sure," Marco said.

  "I'm sure. Goodnight Marco," Harris replied.

  Marco gave Harris a quick salute and ran to the back to grab his stuff. On the way out, he blew her an animated kiss and hustled out the door.

  * * *

  Harris started cleaning up so she would be ready for closing. Creepy writer guy was still writing. Three drunk girls had come in and drank coffee, but they left shortly after. It was slow and quiet for the rest of the evening.

  "Another coffee?" Harris approached the writer, who was still clacking away. Startled, he looked down at his smartwatch.

  "Oh, gosh no. Have a good night." He packed up his laptop and scribblings, threw some cash on the table, and headed for the door.

  Harris checked the clock. 9 p.m. Time to close finally. She locked the front door, flicked off the ‘open’ sign and the dining area lights, and headed for the register.

  "Envelopes," she said aloud to herself, searching behind the counter. Receipt tape, sugar packets, an ancient looking donut-shaped paperweight, no envelopes. She needed an envelope to empty the register into. She walked around behind the counter, searching high and low. Must be in the back, she thought.

  The light flicked on in the back room, as Harris made her way down the hall.

  "Hello?" She called out, walking slowly toward the office, across from the back room.

  The sound of shuffling papers put Harris on edge. Her hair stood up straight on the back of her neck and arms. She moved slowly down the hall, eyes fixed on the back room door. The light clicked off. Harris approached the room slowly, peering in. A body slammed into Harris, papers flew all around her.

  "Jesus Christ!" Gretchen yelled out. "You scared the shit outta me. Why are you sneaking down a dark hallway?"

  Harris let out a sigh of relief. It was only Gretchen. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here."

  Gretchen bent down, gathering up all of her papers. Harris helped.

  "Well it's fine. I had to finish up the schedule for next month, so I stayed a little late. Wait. Why are you here?" Gretchen began flipping through her papers, searching for a schedule. "Where's June?"

  "I offered to cover for her. She had a previous engagement she had forgotten about. It's okay, really. I have it under control."

  Gretchen pursed her lips. She muttered to herself, but loud enough for Harris to hear. "Damn kids always making their own damn schedules. Why do I stay here making schedules if everyone is going to just work whatever shifts they want?" She stomped to the front door "Goodnight, Harris." Gretchen disappeared out onto the sidewalk.

  Harris locked up again and went to the back for the envelopes. The cafe was quiet, aside from the refrigerator compressor kicking on. Harris flicked on the light to the office. Papers were neatly stacked on a large wooden desk. Filing cabinets lined the back and side walls. She started from the first cabinet and opened every drawer, searching for the supplies. Harris pulled out a large manila envelope with labelled lines printed on the front. She examined it. Drawer total, receipt total, over/under, yep, these are the ones, she thought to herself.

  Glasses clinked in the front of the store. Maybe Gretchen came back, she thought.

  "Hello?" Harris called out toward the front. No answer, again. She made her way up to the seating area, expecting to see Gretchen's scowling face at the counter. The cafe was empty. Harris looked behind the counter with suspicion. Nothing seemed out of place. Harris went up to the register to count it out and seal it up in the envelope.

  Glasses rattled again, but this time, directly behind her. Harris reached under the register for the heavy, antique paperweight she had spotted before. Her breath was shallow as she listened carefully and tried to muster up enough courage to make her next move. Something brushed behind Harris's back, grazing her leg. She gripped the paperweight firmly and turned around, swinging it as hard as she could. Her arm vibrated as the paperweight made contact and a sickening thud let out into the air.

  Before Harris could register what we she was looking at, she had swung her makeshift weapon. A rumpled body lay at her feet.

  "OH SHIT," Harris shouted, as she realized what she had done. Kneeling down by Marco's side, she touched his arm gently. "Oh my God. Marco. Marco? I'm sorry, Marco."

  The lump of a man that was Marco groaned. He raised his head up and slowly lifted himself to a sitting position. "Fuck, Harris. Why?"

  "I'm sorry! I didn't know you were here. I thought you were something else. Why are you here? Why would you sneak up on me?"

  "Damn, girl. I was just coming in to say hi. My date sucked. You assaulted me!" Marco tried to pull himself up using the counter, but wobbled on unsteady legs and sat back down.

  "Don't move, let me get some ice. Just sit. You want me to bring you to the hospital?"

  Marco smiled, holding his head with his hand. "You are strong, I'll give you that, but you aren't THAT strong."

  "I think I knocked you out," Harris said, looking skeptical. She helped Marco as he tried to stand again.

  "No, I'm really okay. I just wanted to see you. My date sucked and I figured you'd still be here," Marco answered, blushing slightly.

  Harris shook her head. She remembered what Gracie said to her a while back. Maybe Marco was in to her after all. She waved the thought away and went for the ice. "Marco, I'm really sorry. I just got scared. You were sneaking around a dark restaurant."

  "Wait, you said ‘something else’. What did you think I was?" Marco asked.

  "No, I said someone. I thought you were a burglar or something."

  "No," Marco smiled and pointed in Harris's direction, "you said 'SOMETHING' else'".

  Harris felt her face flush. She didn't want to tell him what she really thought. She thought a monster or demon was about to attack her. That sounded crazy. She was not ready to let him into that part of her life, her past, her haunted town. "I don't know. I was in the grips of fear, thanks to you." She smiled.

  "Well, finish up and drive my busted up ass home. You at least owe me that."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gracie stretched out on Harris's couch. She stared at Harris intensely, listening to her recount her exciting closing shift. "You're kidding. What an ass!"

  "I know! Can you believe him? I thought I was being attacked or something. Or a ghost was trying to murder me." Harris said.

  "And you freakin knocked him out. I'm dead. That is hilarious and impressive, really. You're amazing. You're my idol," Gracie said, throwing her head back in a laugh.

  "Yeah, I guess it's pretty funny now." Harris let a laugh out.

  Gracie pulled up her phone and started typing something. "I wanted to ask you something". She set her phone down on her leg. "Are you busy next Thursday? I have tickets for something."

  Harris shrugged. "I'm not sure if I'm working, but I could ask for off. Oh, I could ask June to cover. She owes me."

  "Yeah, she owes you big," Gracie said, then started laughing again.

  "Tickets for what?"

  Gracie held her phone up to show the screen to Harris. A woman with jet black hair and heavy eyeliner stared at her. In the image, she held her hand near her face as if she was modeling rings or gloves. Under her picture it said 'LIVE in Cargal'.

  "Maggie the Medium? Wait, you didn't" Harris put her hands to her chest.

  "Didn't buy tickets to see Maggie the Medium pretend to contact a bunch of dead relatives? Oh I did. Tell me you'll go."

  Harris put her finger to her chin to look like she was mulling it over, but she already knew her answer. She wouldn't miss it. Maggie the Medium was a woman who claimed she was contacted by ghosts, daily. She had her own show where she met with clients and reached out to the spirits of their lost loved ones. After the show blew up, she started touring. She would communicate with
the dead in front of huge audiences. People loved her. She also claimed that spirits would send messages to her. Harris didn't know whether it was true or not, but looking at what she had lived through in Arbory, she thought anything was possible.

  "Obviously I'm there," Harris smiled, clapping her hands.

  * * *

  The theater was packed. Harris was impressed by the seats that Gracie scored. "We are so close I can see Maggie the Medium's pants size. I can't believe we are so close."

  "Yeah, maybe she'll call on us." Gracie beamed.

  Harris hadn't thought of that. She just thought about being entertained by the show, but it was possible. What if she was really a medium and contacted Harris's family? A panic swept up her body. "Oh, God no. No I'm not doing that." The thought of having to speak about her deceased family members and best friend in front of a huge audience overwhelmed her.

  "It's fine. You don't have to talk to her if she comes over here. I got you covered," Gracie said, leaning her head on Harris's shoulder.

  The lights in the theater went off and music filled the air. As the volume picked up, spot lights flicked on and started scanning around the theater, through the audience and on to the stage. The music picked up speed and the lights froze in place on the stage. A man's voice came on the speakers.

  "Cargal City, please put your hands together foorrrrrrrrrr Maggie the MEDIUM."

  The audience went wild. People cheered and clapped. Whistles echoed through the theater. Maggie the Medium was well received. A tiny figure of a woman came out from behind the curtain on stage. The stage lit up as the dark haired woman came out onto the stage waving.

  "Thank you. Thank you, all. I am so happy to be in your town," her voice boomed over the speaker system. "Now, I'm sure you all know how this works, but let me lay it down for you anyway. I will open my mind to receive contact and the spirits will guide me to their family and friends. If something sounds off, remember that the line of communication between the afterlife and our world is shaky at best. Please, be patient. I know that everyone came here with wishes to hear from their loved ones who have passed, but there is only so much time. I can't speak to everyone. I'll tell you all what I tell the spirits. It's first come, first serve y'all."