I screamed and jumped backwards. Even this motion was unnatural, like I was floating.
“Can you hear me?” a male voice said. I screamed again and turned towards the source. A man stood a few feet away, staring at me. He wore a suit, had curly blond hair with a slightly receding hairline and wore round rimmed glasses. After closer examination, I noticed I could see through him. He was transparent, more like a reflection on a glass door, visible not quite solid.
“Yes, I can hear you,” I managed to say after a few moments. I gasped and covered my mouth when another realization it me. He spoke English and I understood him. I also responded in English. I was too stunned to do anything.
“I’m Lawrence and you are?”
“Juanita.”
“Juanita, what year is it?”
I thought this a strange question, but then again, everything about this moment was strange.
“It’s 1951.”
Lawrence was still. His head dropped down so I couldn’t see his face and he faded a little bit before flaring brighter and he grew less transparent.
“Señor Lawrence, what’s happened?”
Lawrence lifted his head and made eye contact. “Juanita, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re dead.”
His words knocked into me like when I heard Francisco had been killed and I went to gasp, that’s when I realized I wasn’t breathing and that I didn’t need to. It was also when I accepted what Lawrence told me and knew he was telling the truth.
“I died in 1935 and have been stuck here ever since. I’m sorry you suffered and I’m sorry you’re dead. It may seem selfish, but I am happy to have company.”
I didn’t know how to respond so I didn’t. We stood together watching over my corpse. After the ants started to crawl into my mouth, I couldn’t observe anymore. How strange death was. How strange that a white American man who had been dead for close to twenty years would be my companion.
Lawrence left me alone for a while and I appreciated it. Coming to terms with being dead was difficult. Knowing I’d never see my daughter again even more so. My beliefs told me that when my time was done here on earth, I would go to heaven. I needed to know why I was still here. Lawrence was the only one I could ask. I thought about going over to him, where he stood staring off across the road toward the mountains. At the very thought of it, I wound up standing right next to him, without even feeling the movement.
“What just happened?”
“One of the advantages to being a ghost, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You think about where you want to be and you’re instantly transported. There are limitations though.
“Oh.” I’d ask him about those later, but had a more urgent question. “Lawrence, I was wondering…why are we here?”
Lawrence told me about his family and how he took his own life to be with them.
“Is that why you’re stuck?” I asked.
“I think that has something to do with it. I didn’t protect them. They died because of my decisions.” He alternated between growing brighter and fading, it was almost like his energy pulsed with each sob. I could see tears glittering in his eyes, but they never fell. “Can I ask you a question, Juanita?”
“Yes.”
“Who is Mariella?”
At the mention of her name everything went still. The light breeze tapered off, a cactus wren on a nearby saguaro froze mid-peck. At least in my mind everything paused while the pain pressed down on me. I told Lawrence about my daughter and how she was the reason I came to the United States.
“I’ll never see her again,” I cried. Tears spilled, their watery path warm on my cheeks, but when I reached up to wipe them away, nothing was there.
“Another strange sensation to get used to,” Lawrence said.
“So what do you do all day?”
“I pray, I beg for forgiveness in case God is listening and decides to change his mind. I tried to keep track of time, but found it impossible. There really isn’t anything else to do. Weather doesn’t affect me and I tried to move objects, but seem to pass right through them. I also tried to walk back to Phoenix and can’t. I can only go about 100 feet in each direction.”
“And you’ve been here since 1935?”
Lawrence nodded and I shuddered at the thought of being alone, really alone and unable to do anything about it. “It’s nice to talk to someone again,” he said with a slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Over the following years, Lawrence and I forged a bond. Under the circumstances, we had to. I can’t imagine how Lawrence managed to stay sane after all of the time he was alone. He was kind and smart. He suffered too. We both did. Many times Lawrence went off to be by himself and cry. Other times he’d shout at God, raise his fist into the air and shake it at the cloudless blue sky before collapsing to his knees and pleading for forgiveness. During these bouts I would make the sign of the cross and whisper a prayer, not only for myself, but for Lawrence too.
We witnessed a lot of wonder together. Whenever an animal was hit by a car and killed, the tiny spirit was visible for only a moment before it blinked out like a candle being extinguished. Some of the most terrifying storms blew around us. When we were alive, we would have had to run for cover, but dead, we could stand in the middle of it. Hail pummeled down around us, wind whipped sand and debris across the desert and the highway and we didn’t feel a thing.
Cars broke down, flat tires would be changed, but nobody else died. The changes in automobiles over the years were fascinating; colors became brighter and the cars were rounder, longer.
Lawrence was right about the time. I too lost track and only followed the subtle changes in seasons. I think not knowing how much time had passed helped. Each day didn’t go without worry for Mariella though. Was she well? Did she have a good life? Pedro had promised to take care of her, but he was just a kid himself. I didn’t even know if he made it back home. He never returned to find my body. The desert claimed it and what remained after the animals had their way, sunk into the earth.
Four years after I died, someone else joined us. We saw it happen and stood by waiting, like a receiving line at a funeral.
Frank wasn’t particularly happy to see us.
Chapter Eleven
Franklin William Murphy
b.1927 – d.1955
As I pull out, the parking lot goes dark behind me. I light up a Lucky Strike and head home. Today wasn’t so bad; I managed to close a sale. The couple’s faces, who bought a new “Two-Ten” Club Coupe, shone brighter than the paint job on their new ride. It took some finagling with finance; technically they couldn’t afford the payments, but I only worried about the commission. I had my own bills to pay. They were eager to sign on the dotted line no matter what the stipulations were.
Up until two years ago I liked my job. I made good money and went out bowling with the boys after work. Faye and I got married, almost two years ago to the day, and everything changed. I was expected home and my income went towards a mortgage and home décor. I asked Faye once why we needed a set of china and she just gave me a pointed stare, followed by a roll of her eyes, “Because everyone needs good china for dinner parties.” We have yet to use the damn dishes.
I pull into the driveway, park under the car port and turn off the engine, but I don’t get out of the car right away. I savor the rest of my cigarette. I do have to say the house looks nice. Our neighborhood is new and when we picked out colors with the builder, Faye insisted on tan stucco with a forest green trim and she was right about the choice, I’ll give her that. The shrubs I trimmed up last month are holding their shape including the Bougainvillea, which I’m relieved over. Even though the bright pink flowers are beautiful, the thorns are not.
After stubbing my cigarette out in the ashtray, I grab my suit jacket off of the passenger seat. The sleeves of my white dress shirt are already rolled up and my tie loosened. The air conditioning unit in the living room window hums when I pass by it just before I reach the front door. I
go to turn the knob, but the door opens and Faye is on the tile entryway beaming at me.
“Hi Honey,” she says and takes my jacket before kissing my cheek. “How was your day?”
I’m not ready to tell her and yet here she is eagerly waiting to listen. Doesn’t she have dinner to cook? I ask myself and clench my jaw.
“I had a long day and need a drink.”
“Oh, have a seat I’ll get you a beer.” Faye leaves the room and I sit down in my chair. She returns within seconds and sets a bottle down on the table next to me. I light another smoke and lean my head back, exhaling at the same time. With my eyes closed I can sense her hovering. I just need to get this over with. I part my lids slightly. She has the same big smile on her face as when she opened the door.
“Why don’t you tell me about your day first, sweetheart,” I say. Faye unclasps her hands and skips over to me. She sits on my lap and I’m so taken aback, I almost burn her arm. “Whoa, what’s this all about?”
Faye snakes her arm around my shoulders and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to be a daddy.”
“A what?” I begin to choke mid-inhale and drop the cigarette on the carpet. Faye jumps up and runs around behind the chair to step on the butt. A small black mark is burnt into the carpet fibers.
She laughs while she cleans up the mess. “Sorry, I caught you off guard, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. Isn’t this exciting?”
Exciting? You could say that. A surprise? Yes. “Faye, honey, I thought we were going to wait a bit.” I try to disguise the anger in my voice. Less than a month ago we had discussed waiting on children until we built our savings up. Faye bites her lower lip and twists her hands, like she’s lathering them with soap.
“Frank, I…I thought you’d be happy about this.”
“I didn’t say I’m unhappy about it. Don’t go putting words in my mouth.” I take a swig of beer and light another cigarette.
“I know we weren’t planning, but I think this is a good accident.” Faye takes a tentative seat on my lap again. “We were going to start a family anyway. This is just sooner than later.”
I can see my poker nights, already sporadic, will disappear altogether. My Bel Air convertible will have to be traded in for something more family friendly. A knot begins to form at the base of my spine; it’s my freedom being coiled up and stored away like an old extension cord.
Faye is right though, and I know it; this is what we’re supposed to do. You get married, settle down, have a couple kids and grow old together. I love Faye, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes she can be suffocating. She’s always there, hovering about like she’s a nurse and I’m her patient. Come to think of it, she’s a lot like my mother. No wonder my dad drank so much. I take a long draw off my beer bottle and set it down on the coaster.
Faye is watching me, expectantly, with her big, brown eyes and I realize I haven’t really reacted to the news. Smoke billows out when I exhale and prop my cigarette on the side of the ashtray before wrapping my arms around her waist. “Are you happy?” I ask her.
“Yes.” She smiles and touches her forehead to mine. “My dreams are coming true.”
How could I deny her happiness? I’d be a dolt if I did that. I give her a squeeze and kiss the tip of her nose. “Then I’m happy too.”
Faye circles her arms around my neck and kisses me. Her lips are sweet and taste a thousand times better than the cigarette. With one eye open, I stub this out in the ashtray before giving her my full attention. Faye’s affection quickly turns into something more when she shifts and straddles my lap, which is a rare event I’m not going to pass up.
I lower her down onto the carpet and peel her housedress down to her hips. Her hands land on top of mine, stopping the progress.
“Frank, what are you doing? The neighbors…” she whispers and glances over at the large picture window. I look in the same direction and see that the drapes are drawn to keep the heat of the western sun out.
“Relax, Faye. It’s just the two of us. I want to see my pregnant wife.” With this comment she moves her hands and I pull her dress off completely. Once she’s naked I can see the slight swelling in her abdomen and her skin is luminescent. Her breasts are larger too. I gently caress her belly and she closes her eyes as my hand moves lower. She parts her legs and I move in between.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper as I slide into her. She moans and her hands grab onto my ass, holding me in deep. I watch as she bites her lower lip, the fresh indentation on the plump, rosy surface always gets me going and my thrusts grow faster.
Faye is panting when we finish and she rolls over to face me. A light layer of sweat coats her body and it glistens like dew.
“Well, that was certainly a surprise. We won’t be able to do that in a few months.”
“Maybe not on the floor…” I pinch her nipple and she yelps. “What was that? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m just really sensitive.” She’s blushing when she sits up. Covering her breasts she reaches for her bra. “I need to go check on the casserole,” Faye says as she pulls her dress on and leaves the room. I watch her walk away and shake my head. I thought getting married would provide some insight into women, but I remain dumbfounded. They’re hot one minute and cold the next.
I retrieve my pants and put them on, not bothering with the dress shirt, which is a wrinkled mess. I leave that on the floor and just wear my undershirt. I sit back in the chair to finish my beer, basically picking up where I left off moments earlier.
Faye’s comment bothers me and the invisible hand around my neck squeezes slightly. Once we have children running around, the spontaneous sex like what we just experienced will no longer exist. Many of my buddies down at the dealership talk about the sex drying up completely once kids are born. The very thought sends me reaching for another cigarette.
Chapter Twelve
Faye is six months along and getting huge. I’m a little disgusted by her, to be honest. She is puffy and has really bad breath. Her cooking has gone downhill too, not that she was all that great of a cook to begin with. Tonight I came home to find a burnt grilled cheese sandwich on the stove, still in the pan, resting in a puddle of half congealed butter.
I walk into the bedroom to find her asleep next to a pile of dress shirts, yet to be starched and ironed. Her mouth is open and she is lightly snoring. Had I known pregnancy would turn her into this slovenly creature, I’d have bought a lifetime’s supply of diaphragms for her. I’m hungry and not for what’s in the kitchen.
Without waking Faye, I snatch the keys to the Bel Air and drive back toward the dealership. A couple of the guys had gone for some beers and billiards at the bar across the street and I am glad to see their cars are still in the lot.
“Frankie!” Sam yells when he sees me enter the dimly lit bar. I raise my hand in acknowledgement and stop to order a beer before making my way to their pool table.
With a pint in hand and a burger and fries ordered, I am feeling better. Sam claps me on the back, causing beer to slosh over the sides of my glass. His cheeks are red and the burst blood vessels across his nose are extra visible.
“I’m glad you changed your mind, Frankie. Bill is cheating, I’m convinced of it!” He winks across the table to Bill, also a salesman at Valley Sun Chevrolet.
“Thought you were heading home, Frank,” Bill says.
“Yeah, well Faye wasn’t feeling up to cooking tonight and a man has to eat, right?”
“Amen to that!” Sam hoists his whiskey on the rocks and taps it against my glass. “Dolores and I have been married so long she’s glad to have me out of the house.”
“Where’s Tom?” I ask.
“He hardly comes out after work anymore. His son had a basketball game,” Bill replies.
“Family and kids will do that I guess,” I take a bite of my burger and chew before continuing. “Although, I’m going to try to get as much guy time in…especially once my mother-in-law shows up to help Faye.”
�
��Oh boy, when’s that?”
“In two months.”
“Well, if you need a getaway, you can use my camp outside of Flagstaff,” Sam says. “I hardly get up there anymore so if you can get some use out of it…”
“Thanks Sam, I might take you up on that.”
It’s close to midnight when I get home. Faye is sitting at the dinette table when I walk into the kitchen. She has been crying, her eyes are swollen and rimmed with red.
“Where have you been?”
“Out with the guys, I grabbed some dinner.” I pull a pack of smokes out of my shirt pocket.
“But, I made you dinner.” She gestures to the grilled cheese sandwich on the table in front of her. It has been worked over and picked to pieces like a bunch of birds have attacked it. “Besides, you could have woken me up or left a note. I was worried sick!” She crosses her arms across her growing stomach and glares at me, resembling more my mother-in-law than wife.
I pause to light up a smoke before responding. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t in the mood for grilled cheese and you looked tired, I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Did you ever think maybe I’d like to go out sometime, Frank? I’m stuck in this house all day doing laundry, ironing your clothes, making you breakfast and cooking you dinner. It’s all about you isn’t it?” She’s standing at this point and yelling at me. Her face an unhealthy shade of red and her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.
“Calm down, Faye. Don’t be histrionic.” I turn and grab a beer out of the refrigerator.
“Fuck you Frank!” She storms out of the room leaving me stunned in her wake. In all the years we’ve been together this is the first time I’ve heard Faye swear.
End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Page 5