Ghost Heart

by John Palisano

“Probably. The spark plugs have a little bit of oil on them. The fluids could be flushed and refilled. A lot of little things.”

  “That’d make it stop?”

  “Yeah. Definitely could cause the stalling.”

  “Okay,” she said. Her voice reminded me of someone from another time—like an actress from the sixties—I detected a definite Grace Kelly or Kim Novak timbre. “Do I just wait here while you do it?”

  That surprised me. Usually, people came with someone else or asked for rides to work or wherever. No one ever wanted to stick around.

  “Well, it may take a few hours to get the parts and then do the job,” I said. “I can bring you somewhere if you’d like.”

  “Really?” she said.

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “That’d be amazing.”

  “Where do you need to go?”

  “The Universe.” She looked me in the eye. “That’s where I first saw you, remember?”

  “Of course.” I felt my face turning beet red. Had she actually noticed me? “I’ve got to go get the paperwork started on this before we go. Can you follow me inside?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  It only took a few minutes to draw up the papers. Uncle Dave was gone. Probably hiding out in the back office until Minarette was away. He was weird like that. He didn’t like it when my friends came into the shop. Never figured out why.

  After I grabbed the keys to the wagon, our go-to taxi and errand vehicle, we were on our way.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked. She looked me up and down; I imagined her eyes stopped on the bruises on my face.

  “I do,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  “Vanessa. You’ve probably met her. Down at the Universe. She has blonde hair.”

  “Maybe,” Minarette said. “So tell me a little bit about yourself? Are you a musician?”

  “Yes,” I said. “How did you know?”

  “I don’t know. I just can tell. You have that musician vibe.” Minarette was wearing some kind of natural perfume. I loved it—it was so feminine and pretty—but couldn’t place exactly what it was. Kind of made me forget all about Mikey and Jim for a few minutes. That was for sure.

  “Cool.”

  “Guitar?”

  “Yup.”

  “In a band?”

  “Not for a long time,” I said. “Just working now.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

  “What about you?”

  Minarette looked out the window; she appeared fascinated by the brick buildings. “I do all sorts of things,” she said. “Those buildings look old.”

  “Probably. From the 1700s or 1800s. They’re nice. There’s a lot of that sort of thing here.”

  “Do you like them?”

  “Sure.”

  “Even though they’re old.”

  “They’re classic. They’re beautiful.”

  “Do you like old things that are beautiful?”

  “Well, all right,” I said. “The history of things fascinates me. Especially in music.”

  “Yes. Because old things can be beautiful. There’re a lot of layers. They can last a long time,” she said. “A lot longer than most people realize, actually.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “I never thought about it like that before.”

  “I’m all about showing people ways to think they’ve never tried before.” Minarette looked a little lost right then; I saw her looking out the window, and I sensed a deep sadness inside her.

  “That’s cool. I think more people could use looking at the world a little different,” I said. “Maybe see it from other people’s point of view.”

  She took a moment and then turned her head. “How are you doing?” she asked. “You lost a friend the other night.”

  “I’m not sure it’s really sunk in yet,” I said. “I’m just glad I have somewhere to go to during the…wait. How do you even know about that?”

  “Small town,” she said. “You know the cliché.”

  “It’s not that small of a town.”

  “It is if you’re only counting people our age.”

  “Okay. Maybe.”

  “It’s true. Most of the people that come to the Universe are not from here. Some come from very far away.”

  “That’d explain a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like every time I go there, I get the feeling that I don’t know anyone.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “See what I mean?”

  “Guess so,” I said. “Makes sense. I always thought it was because I feel like I was born into the wrong generation. I can’t relate to a lot of the new music. I don’t like it. God. I probably sound like an old fogey.”

  By then, we’d made it to Wall Street, with the Universe looming to our right. “Did you know that, once upon a time, the Universe was a vaudeville theater? Then it was eventually converted into a movie theater in the fifties. I worked there as a kid, ripping and selling tickets.”

  “Wow,” Minarette said. “I saw the stacks of metal letters from the marquee down in the cellar. We’re still using them.”

  “You work there?”

  “Not really,” she said. “It’s a long story.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Cool.”

  She turned, gave me a smile, said, “Well, thanks. I guess you’ll call me?”

  “Yeah.” For a second, I felt like I was saying goodbye to a date. Then I remembered I was dropping her off as a customer. “Your car. Right.”

  I think she caught where my brain was at because she gave a little nod. “All right, then,” she said. “Talk to you later”

  “Great. Yes,” I said. She got out. I tried not to check her out, although it was hard to see much because she moved so fast. She shut the door, and I drove back to Uncle Dave’s repairs. The entire time, I was beaming.

  In my entire life, I didn’t think I’d ever felt so much in love with someone. The whole time, I felt terrible even thinking about love, having just lost Mikey and Jimmy. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe it was just my way of running away from all that. Not like I could exactly run away. There was the whole Vanessa situation I’d have to deal with first. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but nothing could happen until afterward. I made it my resolve that I’d do so as soon as I could get a break. She’d crossed the line.

  * * * * *

  On the way back to the shop, I pulled over, took out my cell and called Vanessa.

  “I’m at work,” she said. No hello or how are you. Nothing.

  “Me, too,” I said. “I just need to talk to you.”

  She sighed. “Jesus. You’re so needy.”

  “No. No,” I said. “It’s not like that.”

  Vanessa didn’t say anything.

  “This can’t wait. I’m sorry, but after last night, I just can’t do this anymore,” I said. “It’s not that I don’t love you, because I do. It’s just that this is too much.”

  She’d hung up before I’d even finished.

  There was a text waiting for me when I hung up.

  Lucy.

  Another friend, and friend of Vanessa’s. We’d hung out a few times, nothing serious. Smoked a little pot. Listened to music. Watched movies. Laughed.

  Checking on you. Just heard about Mikey. Jesus.

  I wrote back.

  Think I’m okay. Hasn’t sunk in. So weird.

  She wrote:

  Let me know if you need anything.

  I wrote:

  Will do.

  My mind raced. It was real. He was gone, too.

  * * * * *

  Back at the shop, I made quick work of ordering the proper spark plugs and oil filter for Minarette’s Saturn. We had plenty of oil in stock. AAA Parts would de
liver stuff right to us, which was great. Sam, the fellow I always spoke to, told me they’d be there within two hours. In my head, I knew I could get her car back to her by noon and keep it under the estimate I’d given her. Awesome. It was always uncomfortable to be the bearer of bad news to friends; even worse when it was a girl you had a thing for. Tended to put the ice on any chance of a relationship.

  I debated whether to call Minarette as soon as her car was ready, or to wait until it was the end of my day, so that I wouldn’t have to rush back to the shop when I was done. Just in case. Who knew? Maybe she’d want to grab coffee or something. A guy could dream, after all.

  The shop was empty. Uncle Dave was missing in action. My guess was he was in the house, doing whatever. That’s what he usually did. When it got slow, he was gone. His house was only a few yards away, which was where my grandparents had lived. He’d inherited the place after my grandfather had passed and my grandmother had gone into a nursing home. It was weird seeing the place where I grew up right next to where I worked. My cousins and I had many great times at the house, and we all knew the shop intimately by the time we were teenagers.

  None of them had chosen to go into the family business. Just me.

  Minarette’s Saturn was right next to the Jeep in the bays. I was glad we didn’t have to work on the Jeep.

  We.

  Jimmy.

  There was no we anymore.

  Crap.

  I’d promised Mary I’d call her right back. That’d been hours earlier. I did.

  “So you have no idea where he is?” I said. I sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to tell her they’d found him. I know that’s really selfish, but I was barely dealing with it myself.

  “No. He’s never done this before,” she said. “I bet he’s with that Michelle girl. He always dug her hot little Asian body. Probably cheating.”

  “I doubt that,” I said. “He was psyched to go home early to see you two. He was lit up. Couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

  “He never came here,” she said. “No phone calls. Oh, Richard. This is so scary. What do we do?”

  I hated being called Richard, but figured it not the best time to correct her. “You need to file a missing persons report down at the station,” I said. “Bring a picture if you have one.”

  “Can you help me?” she said. “I don’t think I can handle this on my own.”

  Damn it. I knew she was going to ask me that. I thought quickly. “I’m not sure,” I said. “I’ve got two cars in the bays right now, and I’m on my own. How about I call you later and see where I’m at.” I wasn’t lying. “Don’t you have anyone else who can go down there with you?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know.”

  She hung up quickly. I could tell she was disappointed and angry, but I couldn’t let it get under my skin. In the meantime, I had to work on Minarette’s Saturn. The sooner I did, the quicker I could call her and see her again.

  * * * * *

  “That was fast,” Minarette said. “Wow. So how does this work now?”

  “I’ll come get you again. We come back here. Settle up, and you’re on your way,” I said.

  “Do you think it’ll stop stalling now?” she asked.

  I said, “It very well should. It was a pretty standard tune-up. No problems.”

  “Okay,” she said. “How long until you’re here?”

  “I don’t know. I can be there within twenty minutes or so.”

  “Great,” she said.

  * * * * *

  When I pulled up to the Universe, Minarette came out wearing dark sunglasses. She came up to the station wagon before I could even get out and open the door for her. There was a man just inside the glass doors, also wearing sunglasses, who watched.

  She got in. “Creatures of the night?” I said. My insides felt light when I saw her.

  Minarette didn’t laugh. “Long hours there,” she said. “The lights inside hurt my eyes after a while. The smoke can get really heavy.”

  Her skin looked lighter than when I’d dropped her off. I cast it off as just my imagination. I was surprised to see some of the veins in her neck below the surface of her skin.

  Once we pulled away from the curb, I asked, “Should I put on the radio?”

  “I’d prefer silence,” she said. “I just had to deal with a ton of noise inside there, so it’d be a nice break. If that’s okay?” She held on to the door handle as though she might fall out of the car.

  “Sure,” I said. “Of course.”

  We circled Wall Street before turning back up toward Main. “Who’s playing there tonight?”

  “It’s not a band,” she said. “It’s a DJ party. Like a rave. EDM.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Not my thing.”

  “I know, but they can be fun.” She was still holding on to the door handle. I thought that was odd but didn’t want to say anything, because I was unsure why she was doing it. My first thought was that she wasn’t feeling good and was using it to steady herself.

  “Really?” I asked.

  Minarette said, “No problem. You just have to get into it. Let yourself go.”

  “I’ve tried. I just really think I was born in a different generation than this stuff. It makes me feel ancient.”

  “You’re too young to be too old,” she said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I feel pretty damn old sometimes.”

  She said, “Me, too.”

  It didn’t take us a long time to get back to the shop. She seemed very distant. I noticed that the entire ride, she hadn’t taken off her sunglasses once.

  We got out of the car, and she followed me into the office. Uncle Dave was still nowhere to be found. I showed her the invoice. Her car keys were on the counter right next to the invoice.

  “Is this it?” She asked. “It’s only for eighty-two dollars? I was expecting a lot more.”

  “Yeah. That’s just for a tune-up and oil change. I itemized everything for you. Fifty bucks for the tune-up. Thirty-two bucks for the oil. About right.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thanks a lot. I really do hope that’s all it needed.”

  “I think I would’ve spotted something were off and needed to be fixed.” She handed me a hundred-dollar bill, and I turned around to the cash register.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate the ride, and the fast service and the honesty,” she said.

  “That’s how I roll,” I said. “And, if something else happens, and if that doesn’t do the trick to make your car stop stalling, please let me know. I’m happy to take another look at it for you for free. We stand by our work here. Which is pretty rare these days.”

  “It is.” Minarette grabbed her keys, I gave her change, she smiled and said, “Well, talk to you later,” before she was gone in a flash.

  I went, sat behind the desk and pretended to be doing something on the computer, but I watched her the entire time, watched her as she left and drove away. I could still smell her in the office. That sweet, mysterious perfume she wore. I couldn’t help myself. I was already crazy about her, and I hardly knew her.

  Chapter Eight

  “I didn’t know that funerals happen so fast,” Anna said.

  “It’ll be a week. That’s usually the timeframe,” I said. “You haven’t been to too many funerals, have you?”

  I sat on my bed and looked out the window while I talked to her on the phone. A bald guy was walking his dog. I didn’t recognize him. There was a lot of that happening in Whistleville these days—new people moving in, old people dying. Ever since the September 11 attacks, we’d had an influx of people who didn’t want to live in the city, but who worked there. A decade later, we were still feeling the effects of their moving into what they called a “bedroom community”.

  “Are you listening to
me?” Anna asked. “You with me?”

  “Yeah. I’m still here,” I shook my head. My mind often wandered when I talked to her. There was just something about her that had that effect on me. It was weird.

  “You have to pay attention. This is important,” Anna said. “I know this is very hard for you.”

  “It is.”

  “You know Vanessa called me last night, very upset. She said you called her at work and broke up with her over the phone.”

  “It’s true. After you and I talked, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore.”

  “She told me you showed up at her house uninvited and freaked out on her.”

  “She sent me a text asking me to come over,” I said. “But it turns out she meant to send it to somebody else. Then when I showed up there, innocently, she hit me. I’ve had it. I can show you the text if you don’t believe me. I’m pretty sure she’s crazy or something.”

  “Are you sure she hit you?” Anna asked. “That doesn’t seem like something she would do.”

  “Oh. Come on. We talked all about how she gets physical. This was just more of the same. Just this time it was much worse. She crossed a line she can’t come back from.”

  “Maybe you should file a police report, then,” she said.

  The bald guy and his dog were gone. I wondered where they were headed because the end of my street was a dead end. I said to Anna, “No, thanks. I just want this to be over. I’ve had enough of dealing with the police this week, thank you very much.”

  “It’s your party,” Anna said. “So what are you gonna do now?”

  “Go on living,” I said. “That’d be showing Mikey respect, and that’s what he’d want.”

  “Yup. Mikey wanted you to get rid of Vanessa, too. He always said you could do much better. That you deserved much better.”

  “And he told me as much the night he was attacked—the night we were attacked,” I said. I saw his face in my mind and heard his voice telling me what he thought I should do to better my situation. Echoes from that night circled inside my skull.

  “I’m glad it took one of your friends dying for you to realize this,” she said. “And I’m glad you’ll actually listen to Mikey. I’ve been telling you this for two years, and you haven’t listened to me at all. Not once.”