The Ghosts

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “Actually we’re goin’ back tomorrow.”

  I took a sip of water. “Um, nope. Not happening.” I gulped down the rest of the water and used my stern mom voice to make sure he understood. “I’m serious, Josh.”

  He spun around and faced me. “I’m kidding, Mom. The guys wouldn’t go back there anyway.”

  “Promise?”

  He swiped an X across his heart. “Promise, but you gotta promise to tell me what’s going on.”

  “If I ever figure it out, I will. Maybe.”

  He pitched a throw pill at me, and to my surprise, I caught it. “Oh snap.”

  “Lucky catch.”

  “Whatever. You're mom's just awesome, but you'll figure that out one day.”

  “Already did.”

  ***

  Out on the deck, I summoned my mother. Summoning spirit wasn't a skill I'd perfected, and I didn't enjoy it either, but when it came to calling my mom, well, that was a different story. She was my mom; I'd been calling her my entire life, so it wasn't the same as summoning in my book. “Ma? Calling Fran Richter, celestial super sleuth. Come on down.” I figured using the Price is Right phrase would get a laugh outta her. I was right.

  “Ah, good ol’ Bob Barker,” she said, shimmering in. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

  My eyes widened. “He’s still alive? He’s gotta be older than dirt.”

  “Pretty much, but he’s still kickin’. We got another game show host subbing for him now, and between us, he don’t do it as good. We all are pullin’ for Bob to show up soon.”

  I wasn't sure which got me more, the fact that there were game shows in Heaven or that spirits were hoping for someone to die. I flicked my hand. “I don’t even wanna know. I plopped into my favorite deck chair and pulled my knees to my chest to ward of the surprising chill I’d felt. It was chilly in October, sometimes, but I rarely wore anything other than a sweater thanks to menopause. “So did you find out anything?”

  She hovered near the chair. “Yup and it ain’t good. That place is haunted.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gee Einstein, tell me something I didn’t already know.”

  “Don’t get salty with your ma.”

  “Salty? When did you start using that word?”

  “When I heard Josh say it to his girlfriend.”

  “Josh has a girlfriend?” I attempted to withhold my shock, but Josh had a girlfriend, and I didn't know it so holding back my surprise was pointless.”

  “For over a month now. That’s the benefit of being dead. We’re all-knowing.”

  I’d just thrown up a little in my mouth. “Whatever,” I said, recovering from the shock temporarily to get back to the haunted house. “So tell me more about what you found out.”

  “There’s a group of undesirables, and they got some issues. Madone, the issues. They don’t wanna leave.”

  I stewed on that for a moment. “I guess that’s their choice.”

  “Nope, that ain’t how this stuff works. You had a dream for a reason.”

  “It was just a dream. Probably because it’s Halloween season and I’d read an article about the place recently.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know that ain’t true.”

  Why couldn't a dream just be a dream like it used to be? I much preferred dreaming about my high school boyfriends and doing presentations in class naked. I ran my hand through my hair, and when I pulled it out, several hairs came with it. I shook them off and watched them float to the deck floor. “So what does that mean? Do I have to exorcise these demon spirits or something because if that's what the universe is saying, I'm out? Done. My gift isn't going in that direction, no matter what they say. Nope. Not gonna happen.”

  “Oh for cryin’ out loud, don’t get your undies all in a bunch. You ain’t no Priest, and they're not demons. You just gotta get them to go to the light. A little convincing is all it takes. I’ll go with you and bam!” Her aura lit up when she said bam. Something new and pretty cool, too. “They’re gone. Easy peasy.”

  Maybe for her, but me, not so much. “This is above my pay grade. I don’t have the experience for this kind of thing.”

  My mother floated closer to me. “Remember your first swim meet, when you had to do that butterfly in the group swim thingie? What was that called?”

  “The relay, and yes I remember.”

  “You were scared because it wasn’t your strong stroke and you didn’t wanna do it.”

  “I was six mom. This is different.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not. Do you remember what I told you?”

  Of course, I did. It was her standard line with me ever since, and I knew where she was going. “Yes, I remember.”

  She kept her eyes on mine and waited.

  “What?”

  “What’d I say?”

  I sighed. “You said you got Wop blood running through those veins, and that makes you special. You don't need nothin’ else to get you through the hard stuff.”

  “My work here is done.”

  “That was different, Ma. These are ticked off ghosts. You can’t compare the two.”

  “I’m a celestial super sleuth studying to be a spirit guide. You think I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about?”

  “It’s not that. It’s that I—”

  She cut me off. “Tomorrow. You gotta do this before someone gets hurt.”

  I didn't know if I could, and I told her that.

  “Wop blood Ang, that’s what I’m sayin’,” and with that, she shimmered away.

  ***

  Tomorrow came sooner than I’d wanted.

  “She said what?” Mel asked.

  We’d been sitting inside a new, locally owned coffee shop where I’d filled her in on things. “Wop blood.”

  Mel leaned back in the antique chair. “I’m Asian so does that mean I get a pass?”

  I followed Mel's lead and leaned back in my similarly designed chair, which by the way, was one billion times more comfy than the chairs at Starbucks. I'd felt a bit like I was cheating on the national chain, but they'd changed their rewards program, and I didn't like the way it worked anymore, so we decided to give the local coffee shops a try. We thought it was better to support local businesses anyway. So far we were happy.

  I shook my head and sipped my pumpkin spice latte. It was to die for. “Oh my Gawd, this is orgasmic.”

  “I did notice you moan a little just now.”

  “Better than sex.”

  “Then Jake’s doin' something wrong, honey.”

  I gave her the stink eye. “Anyway, we’re doing this. Now. If we don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Sucks to be a ghost whisperer. I can't hear Fran, so it's not my problem.”

  “Rude.”

  She winked. “Fine, I’ll do it, but only because there’s a chance you’ll pee your pants and I don’t wanna miss that.”

  I chugged the rest of my Heaven in a cup. “That’s friendship right there.”

  She finished off her drink too. “You know it, baby.”

  A short while later we were parked outside of the house gathering our courage to get it done.

  Mel’s bottom lip quivered. I tapped her lip to steady it. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  She pushed my finger away. “I'm not scared; it's freaking cold here.” She shrugged. “Okay, I am scared, but it's still freezing. Just because you're all menopausal and ready to spontaneously combust doesn't mean us younger, fertile women aren't freezing our butts off.”

  “You’re a year younger. A year.”

  “And not even peri-menopausal yet.”

  “Whatever. Your time is coming.” I opened the car door and stepped out, pushing my chest out to fake confidence at the same time. “Let’s do this.”

  “Ten-four good buddy.” She popped open her door and bounded out. “Fran’s here, right?”

  Rut-roh. To lie or not to lie? I decided not to, in case she realized I was and got all Asian-crazy girl on me. Mel w
rote the book on being an angry Asian, she was just that good at it. “Not yet but I’m sure she will be soon.”

  Mel hopped right back into the car and slammed the door. “Let’s wait for her.”

  I pulled on the handle. “I’ll call her. Don’t be such a wuss.”

  “When she’s here, I’ll come out.”

  “Ah Madone,” Ma said, shimmering in next to me. “See what happens when you don’t got the Wop blood?”

  I giggled. She's here, and she just called you a chicken.”

  Mel jumped back out of the car. “I’m not a chicken. Let’s get this done. I got a job, ya know.”

  We marched to the front porch like two dads dragging their crying kids from the toy section at WalMart, with complete determination. Except when we got to the porch, we froze.

  “Okay I’m scared,” she said.

  I nodded. “Me, too.”

  The door swung open. We grabbed each other’s hand.

  “Oh, sheet,” she said.

  “Roger that.”

  “Oh come on already,” Ma said and floated to the door. “How do you know I didn't do that?”

  “Did you?” I asked.

  “No, but you didn’t know that till now so stop bein’ babies and let’s go.”

  “Ma said she did that,” I lied.

  “You swear?” Mel asked.

  I avoided eye contact and scurried to the door. “Come on.”

  We got inside without wetting ourselves and tiptoed into the parlor where my mother had floated.

  “So what do I do?” I asked my mother.

  “We wait. They’ll show up in a second or two.”

  She was right. Not even a mili-second after she said that, the floor vibrated, an old photo fell from the wall and someone screamed bloody murder. Mel covered her ears, and her China doll skin whitened to a shade I'd never seen.

  “Show yourself,” Ma said.

  “We’re here to help you,” I said.

  The parlor doors slammed shut, scaring Mel to near hysteria. “We’re gonna die!”

  I didn’t argue because I was too busy shaking in my shoes. “Ma, I don’t like this.”

  “Cool your boots,” she said. “I got this.”

  She'd better because I sure didn't. Ma spun like a super cell over to the parlor doors, and they blasted open. Mel dug her manicured nails into my arm.

  “It’s Fran,” I said, yanking my arm away. “And I think you just drew blood.”

  She didn’t apologize.

  Ma’s energy swirled in circles, lifting furniture off the floor. The antique chandelier barely hanging above us swayed, so we scooted out of its reach.

  “Ma?”

  She spun around, and when I saw the hollow spaces where her eyes used to be glowing like a Christmas tree, I shut up. She'd never done that before. It would be cool if I didn't want to run and hide.

  The doors flung shut again, banging as they hit the battered doorframe. Mel gave my arm another set of nail marks.

  My mother bowed up, her ghostly frame extending to near the ceiling. Looking back, it reminded me of how she appeared when I was a child, and she'd bust me for trying her meatballs and gravy before she finished cooking.

  “You may be long dead but I got skills you’ve only dreamed of,” she yelled.

  The room vibrated, sending chills down my spine.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” she said. “But whatever you choose, I’m gonna win.” She bowed up again and the chandelier came crashing down. I grabbed Mel’s arm and pulled her to the corner of the room, as far away from the shattered glass as possible.

  Ma blew on the doors, and they swung open again.

  Go Ma.

  The few remaining pictures hanging on the walls sailed across the room, heading straight for us. Mel screamed a trail of cuss words fit for a truck driver stuck on Interstate 90 during rush hour. She’d never succeed at giving up swearing working with me. We both ducked and rolled under a bulky table a few feet away.

  “On the count of three, we're gonna run over there,” I pointed to the front side of the parlor, near the windows, “and pull the chaise over. It’ll help cover us.

  She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

  “One, two, three.”

  We ran like mice to cheese, grabbed the chaise, pushed it back to the table and propped it up, the whole time dodging flying objects. I got hit in the leg by a candlestick. It would leave me with a bright purple bruise.

  “It was the ghost, in the parlor, with a candlestick,” Mel said. “Only it's not a board game this time.”

  I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Ma’s got this, I promise.” I hoped I wasn’t lying.

  Ma yelled again. “Show yourself. I don’t got all day.”

  The room stilled, and everything got quiet. I peeked out from behind the chaise—with just one eye because it was always less scary to look at anything with one eye closed—and saw them. My other eye popped open. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I jerked back behind the chaise and shook my head at Mel. “Un-freaking-believable.”

  “What?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

  My mother laughed a disbelieving laugh, the kind you make when you do something stupid like trip over air and everyone sees you, and you want to save face. “Come on out you scaredy cats. These ghosts ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

  I wasn’t sure about that. They were pretty powerful little nuggets.

  “What’s going on?” Mel asked. “Tell me!”

  “The ghosts are with Ma. They’re not all that scary when you see them up close.”

  “Bull crap. They’re scary. Look what they’ve done!”

  “They’re kids, Mel. They can’t be all that bad.” I wanted to reassure both of us. I pushed the chaise out of the way. “Come on.”

  I dragged Mel from under the table, and we both did a fabulous turtle imitation, creeping toward my mom and the spirits. We weren’t in any rush to put ourselves in danger, but I knew if I didn’t go to them any power I might have over them mentally would be lost. I didn’t feel brave, but I faked it as best I could.

  Three kids—two girls and a boy—all dressed in 70’s era clothing, floated next to Ma. They’d been haunting the place for at least 40 years. My heart ached. Each of them appeared gangly and worn. Their clothes were dirty and torn, their hair knotted and messy. They must have died tired and hungry. How does that happen?

  “You don’t belong here,” the bigger of the two girls said. “Leave now.”

  “Don’t be a smarty pants,” Ma said. “She’s here to help you.”

  The boy, who wasn’t more than three, hid behind his big sisters. “Can you find my Mama?”

  Oh boy.

  “Leave,” the girl said. “Our Mama won’t like you being here.”

  “Where is your mom?” I asked.

  “None of your business,” the second girl said. Clearly, she was as sassy as her sister.

  “You ain’t gonna find your mama hanging out here and scarin’ people,” Ma said. “And being little snots won’t help either. I know your mom taught you manners, so use them.”

  The two girls straightened their slightly transparent shoulders but kept their lips zipped. Ma was scary when she was mad.

  “Do you know what year it is?” I asked.

  Mel nudged me and whispered, “Standin’ in the dark here, hearing nothing.”

  I whispered back, “Patience Luke Skywalker.” Focusing back on the kids I repeated my question.

  “What does that matter?” the biggest said. Even floating above the floor she was still at least a foot shorter than me, and I didn’t pass five foot two. I didn’t think she was much older than ten.

  I crouched down a bit so I could be at her eye level. “It’s 2016, and from the looks of your clothing, I’m guessin’ you were born some time in the 1960’s. Am I right?”

  She dropped her head and nodded.

  “Honey, you’ve been here a long time. Where’s your mom? Is she
here too?”

  “We can't find her. She told us to stay here, and she'd come back for us, but she's not back yet. It's cold, and we're hungry, but we ate everything in the basket.”

  “The basket?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you bring that basket?” I asked.

  The smaller of the girls spoke. “We had a picnic and Mama went to get more candy, but she's not back yet. She's coming back though real soon, and she won't like you here talking to us.”

  I glanced at my mother, and she shrugged.

  “Where is the basket?”

  “Up in that dusty room where Mama told us to stay so, we'd be safe. It's scary in there.”

  I didn't know which room she'd meant, but I suspected it was the attic, and if I went up there, I'd find the remains of three small children. I wondered if anyone already had.

  “I don’t think your mom is coming back. It’s been a long, long time and…” I didn’t know how to break the news to these kids. “Do you know what happened to you?” I asked the oldest.

  “It was cold, and we were hungry. Starving. We got tired.”

  They'd died from hypothermia or starvation, or maybe both. How could a mother do that to her children? Leave them to die and in such a horrible way? I choked back the anger brewing inside of me. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. There is a place you can go now and there are people there who will take care of you.”

  “Yah and I can help you get there,” Ma said. “It’s a lotta fun, and we got all the candy you want. Promise.”

  The little boy moved away from his sisters and over to Ma.

  “Mikey, no,” his sister said.

  “It’s okay,” Ma said. “I ain’t gonna hurt him, or any of you, and you gotta stop hurtin’ others. It’s gonna be okay.”

  “We have to wait for Mama. She’s coming back. She’ll be mad if we’re not here.”

  “What’s your names?” I asked. There couldn’t be three kids here left to die without it making the news, even if it was in the 70’s. “I’m Angela, and this is my mom, Fran. The lady next to me is Mel.”

  “I’m Mikey,” the little boy said. Even through the dirt, and even though he was gangly, he was cute as a button.

  “Hi, Mikey. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.