[2015] The Ghost Slept Over

by Marshall Thornton

  Grady leaned over the table and whispered, “How far did you have to go?”

  “I didn’t have to go anywhere,” I semi-lied. “I offered him the role at dinner and he turned it down. But by the time I drove him home he’d changed his mind. It is an awfully good role.”

  “It is,” Grady said, winsomely. “Maybe someday I’ll get to do it.” He punctuated that with a deep sigh.

  Wendell and I spent a few minutes trying to cheer Grady up and then Jane came back with the mimosas. Constance was right behind her dressed in her killer real-estate agent suit. “Jane told me the news. Congratulations! Any idea when he’ll be writing a check?”

  “We didn’t discuss money.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I couldn’t make the role seem quid pro quo, he never would have taken it.”

  “But we can’t wait long,” she pointed out. “We’re running out of money. The electricity bill is past due. Then there’s the heating oil, the poster, several hundred to finish the sets, another few hundred for the costumes…”

  “All right. I get it. We can probably start with the electricity. In a couple of days. I mean, maybe we should start small. If he pays the electricity bill for us that could lead to a larger discussion.”

  “What about his endowment?” Wendell asked, sipping the mimosa Jane had just given him.

  “I beg your pardon?” I asked, a little shocked.

  “An endowment. Would he consider endowing us?”

  “Oh.” Apparently, I’d misheard him. “A true endowment would take most of the estate, if not all of it. So, that’s not likely.”

  “What about just giving us the theater? And some transitional cash.” Grady suggested.

  The whole thing seemed mercenary. I felt like I was negotiating a divorce settlement. “You know, it’s a charitable donation. If he gives anything he’s going to give what he’s comfortable with. Not what you’re comfortable with. And you need to be grateful for that.”

  “You’d think he’d want to give us something in keeping with Mac’s wishes,” Grady said.

  “Which were never expressed,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, I think they were expressed,” insisted Wendell. “Constance, did you get that information I asked for?”

  “Yes I did, Wendell.” She put down her mimosa and began digging through her purse. “I just put it right…here.” She pulled out a piece of paper and read from it. “Seventy-eight thousand, three hundred fifty-seven dollars and sixteen cents.”

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “That’s the amount of money Mac spent on the Barnyard Players in the last three years. Not including the forgiven rent.”

  “Forgiven rent?”

  “We’ve never actually paid rent.”

  “Oh.”

  “All we need really,” explained Constance, “would be a commitment of twenty-five thousand a year plus the building.”

  “Better make it thirty-five,” Grady said. “If we own the building then we have to pay the taxes.”

  “If we made it fifty we could start paying stipends to management,” Wendell said.

  “This is getting out of hand,” I said. “Originally all we wanted to do was finish Heaven Sent.”

  “I think that’s all you wanted to do,” Constance said.

  “We always had more in mind,” Grady added.

  Chapter Nine

  The Ghostbuster Cometh

  The next morning I was up early and calling every store I could find in Marlboro that might have a bundle of sage appropriate for smudging. I discovered the town had an absurd amount of organic cooking sage on hand, but no clumps of dried sage. I wished for a moment I was in Los Angeles. I could find what I wanted there in about thirty seconds. In fact there was a Wiccan shop I knew of in Santa Monica. I wondered if they shipped overnight?

  But then I decided to give up. Partly because Mac was staring at me, making me uncomfortable, and partly because I had the feeling I needed to do more than just burn a clump of sage. I probably needed to say something, some spiritual version of “Get the fuck out.” And I had no idea what that might be.

  “It won’t work,” Mac said. “It took me a while to work up the nerve but eventually I hopped right over that salt you laid out. Then I walked through it. Then I stomped it into the stoop. Nothing happened. I was fine. Salt won’t stop me going anywhere.”

  “Okay,” I said as though I could care less.

  “And don’t think burning a few fragrant herbs in here is going to do anything either. I can tell you right now it’s not.”

  “Stop listening to my conversations,” I said, while thinking that I was going to have to get serious. I went upstairs to Mac’s office and powered up his computer.

  “What are you doing now?” Mac asked.

  I didn’t want to tell him so I said, “Dewey told me what you did. Sending me fake residuals. That was very sweet, thank you.”

  “I never stopped loving you,” he said.

  “Except you did,” I pointed out. “When we broke up you said you weren’t in love with me anymore.”

  “Oh, pish posh.”

  “Well, you said it.”

  I’d gotten the browser up and since he’d turned away from me I was able to type in “ghost removal” and “Marlboro.”

  “I may have said it, but I never meant it.”

  “You gave a very convincing performance.”

  “Did I?” He seemed proud. “I worked on that.”

  Actually, it wasn’t very convincing. In fact, it was one of the things that made me so mad. I was being lied to and I never knew why. I wondered if I could find out now.

  “Mac, if you didn’t mean it, then why did you say it?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you. Not while you’re alive, at least. Some things are better left for after death.”

  “Well, I’m not planning on dying any time soon.”

  “Really?” He sounded disappointed, but I barely paid attention. I was trying to read a Website for a company called Ghost Be Gone in someplace called Skyler.

  “Where’s Skyler?” I asked Mac.

  “About thirty minutes from here. Why? Are you getting a job?”

  “Actually, I sort of got a job.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, I’m going to be in Heaven Sent with the Barnyard Players.”

  Mac narrowed his eyes at me. “Why?”

  “Because Grady broke his leg.”

  “Did he? Why isn’t Wendell stepping in?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that they asked me and I said yes.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed the number for Ghost Be Gone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  I ignored him. A woman answered and I asked, “I’m in Marlboro on the lake, how quickly could you get here?”

  She told me within the hour so I gave her the address. I hung up and stared at Mac.

  “Don’t tell me. You just ordered a pizza.”

  “Actually, that was an exterminator. We have a pest problem.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not getting rid of me.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “If I don’t want to go then you can’t make me.”

  “Did someone tell you that or are you just guessing.”

  He frowned at me. Obviously, he was guessing.

  “Do me a favor,” I said. “Click your heels three times.”

  He glared at me and didn’t do it.

  I shrugged and said, “It was worth a try.”

  “Why do you want to get rid of me? We could be so happy together.”

  “Please don’t be offended, but I really don’t see that as a possibility.”

  “That’s because you lack imagination.”

  “We were together for nearly five years, I think I can imagine what an eternity would be like with you. I’ll pass.”

  “I think we were good together.”

  “Well, you would.”

  “What’s tha
t supposed to mean? You said you were happy. You certainly didn’t want the relationship to end.”

  “But after it did, it turned out I was actually grateful. It was like my entire life had been cloudy and then suddenly, unexpectedly, the sun came out.”

  Mac gasped. “You’re lying.”

  “Do we really need to rehash this?”

  “I feel tricked. I’ve literally come back from the dead for you and you’re not interested.”

  There wasn’t much else to say, so I said, “Sorry?”

  “That’s it? You’re sorry?”

  “Well, honestly, not that much. If you think about it, Mac, I didn’t ask you to come back. I didn’t ask you to leave me your money. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

  “You’re the love of my life. There really wasn’t anyone but you,” he said, looking truly morose.

  “I loved you, Mac. I really did. Then. Not now. Not through eternity. You’re just going to have to accept that.”

  “I will not,” he said, then turned and left the room.

  I didn’t see him again for almost an hour.

  * * * *

  Dr. Emily Crawley presented her card the minute I opened the door. I took it, glanced at it briefly, and let her in. She was a wide-hipped young woman wearing the kind of overalls normally worn by a mechanic. Sitting next to her on the salty stoop were several metal boxes containing different sorts of equipment.

  As she dragged in the boxes, Mac came down the stairs. He gave me an unpleasant look and said, “Are you having cable installed?”

  Dr. Crawley began setting up her equipment. She said, “Tell me what you’ve got going on here.”

  “I’m being haunted by my ex-partner. He used to own the house.”

  “Is he malicious? I don’t recommend removing ghosts unless they’re actually malicious.”

  “He’s extremely malicious.”

  “Ha! I’m malicious!” Mac caterwauled. “You’re trying to end my very existence!”

  I ignored him.

  Dr. Crawley continued, “Disturbing your sleep, inappropriate touching, cold fields, deliberate attempts to frighten you. Have you experienced any of that?”

  I decided not to take any chances. “I’ve experienced all of it. And a lot of attitude.”

  “Really. You must have a very active ghost. Is it possible you have more than one?”

  “No, it’s just the one. He’s a busy boy.”

  Mac flopped onto the sofa. “I could really use a drink,” he said. “So far, that’s the only real downside to being dead. I miss alcohol. Why don’t you have a martini, Cal? Maybe I’ll enjoy watching you drink.”

  “It’s not even noon.”

  “Oh, well, I may be here most of the day and into the night even,” Dr. Crawley said. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, ghosts are much more active at night. They’re nocturnal creatures.”

  “I’m hardly a creature,” Mac sneered.

  She’d finished setting up a video camera and was now taking a piece of equipment out of a canvas bag that looked a little like an old cassette recorder. On its face it had a dial. She caught me looking at the equipment.

  “This is an infrared video camera. If we’re lucky we’ll be able to detect an actual shape. And this,” she said, holding out the recorder. “This is an EMF meter. It measures electromagnetic fields. Now you should know that paranormal activity doesn’t always cause EMF movement, nor does EMF movement always point to paranormal activity.”

  “Then what good is it?”

  “Oh, it’s very useful.” Suddenly, Dr. Crawley asked, “Did you hear that?”

  “No,” I said.

  “There was shuffling upstairs. Definitely footsteps.”

  I leaned very close to her and whispered, “He’s sitting on the sofa.”

  She looked over at Mac and said, “No. He’s upstairs.”

  That gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. This was definitely not going to work. Dr. Crawley stood at the bottom of the stairs aiming her EMF meter at the stairs.

  “Do you want me to leave?” she asked the stairs.

  “Would you?” Mac said. “I find you kind of annoying.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” Dr. Crawley asked. “Do want to talk to me?”

  “No. He finds you annoying,” I told her.

  She gasped with delight. “The EMF meter just spiked. He’s glad to see me.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think he is,” I said. “You know I never asked, how much are you charging me?”

  “It’s a hundred dollars an hour.”

  “Oh, that is ridiculous,” Mac said.

  “Shut up. I’ll handle this.”

  “Did you just tell me to shut up?” Dr. Crawley asked.

  “No, I just told my ex to shut up. He’s still sitting on the sofa.”

  “Why are you so convinced there’s a ghost on the sofa?” she asked. She walked over in that direction with her EMF meter. “See, I’m getting nothing.”

  “I’m convinced there’s a ghost on the sofa because I can see him and I can hear him.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she looked me up and down. “You’re a skeptic, aren’t you? This is some kind of dirty trick.”

  “Believe me, I’m not a skeptic. Not anymore.”

  “Well something’s going on. You’ve got a clear disturbance upstairs and nothing on the sofa.”

  I turned to Mac and said, “She doesn’t believe you exist.”

  Mac looked at his nails, he couldn’t care less.

  “You see him?” Dr. Crawley asked. “Clearly?”

  “Yes, just as clearly as I can see you.”

  “And you can hear him?”

  “When he deigns to speak, yes.”

  “Then he’s obviously not a ghost.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Human beings emit an electrical charge. In some cases, when they die, that electrical charge or a portion of that charge remains. That’s why when people see a ghost it’s only a glimpse. If they hear a ghost it’s only a whispered word. An electrical charge couldn’t do what you’re talking about.”

  “So the more real the ghost the less likely it is to be real?”

  “Exactly. Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist?”

  I turned to Mac and said, “I’m a little offended. She thinks you’re a figment of my imagination.”

  He signed heavily, said, “Oh, all right,” and got off the sofa.

  “I’m serious,” Dr. Crawley said. “You could be having some very severe mental problems. Dangerous mental—”

  Mac tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and looked at what was, to her, an empty space. Then she spun around and looked at me. “How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t do it, the ghost did.”

  “I just explained to you—”

  And that’s when Mac decided to goose her. She jumped nearly a foot into the air. She turned around and considered the situation. “All right, maybe you do have a disturbance down here. As I said, the EMF meter doesn’t pick up everything. Though given the strength of this apparition, I’d have thought it would pick up something. But whatever it is, it’s definitely malevolent.”

  “I agree,” I said.

  “I am not malevolent. A little mischievous perhaps, but not malevolent.”

  “Semantics.”

  “What’s he saying?” Dr Crawley asked.

  “He doesn’t like the word malevolent.”

  “Well, no, he wouldn’t. But it describes him to a T.” She looked cautiously in Mac’s general direction. “I need to get something out of the car. Do you think you’ll be okay?”

  “I can hold my own,” I said.

  Dr. Crawley walked out of the house.

  “Should I be quaking in my boots?” Mac asked.

  “Probably not. She doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Don’t get snippy, I had to try something.”

  “Why?”

&nb
sp; “Oh, I must not have said this before. I want you to go away.”

  “You may have mentioned it. Seriously, I think you’d be much better off getting used to the idea that we’ll always be together. You should call Dr. Albertson and tell him you’re having trouble sleeping.”

  “I’m not having trouble sleeping.”

  “No, you never did.”

  “Then why would I…? Oh. Mac, I want to be very clear about this. I intend to live my full life span.”

  “But you know I’m not patient.”

  “Then don’t wait for me. Move on.”

  That earned me a frown. Just then, Dr. Crawley walked back into the house struggling with a large contraption in a big plastic pan. Inside the pan there were three car batteries attached to a row of coils ending in a sort of wand. It did not look safe. She dropped it down onto the floor and picked up the wand.

  “Where is he?”

  “Right next to me,” I said.

  “Stand back.”

  She flipped a makeshift switch on the battery and waved the wand in my direction. I was immediately swept by an electrical current, my hair stood on end and I shivered from the strength of it. I turned to look at Mac. There was a sudden look of fear on his face, he turned vaguely green, glowed brilliant silver, and then, in a flash, disappeared entirely. Leaving a green puff of smoke in the air.

  Dr. Crandall grabbed my arm, “I saw him! I saw him!”

  I patted her hand and said, “Thank you. He’s gone now.”

  I had the ridiculous feeling I might miss him.

  * * * *

  An hour later, I was curled up on the sofa studying my Heaven Sent script. It really was a very good part and I was glad that I was going to get to do it. Though, not to sound snooty, I was a little afraid the rest of the company wouldn’t be up to par. Still, that was hardly my problem. And we were out in the boonies so no one important would see it anyway. This was for the pure joy of acting…and getting to see Mac’s lawyer again.

  My first rehearsal was in just a few hours and I wanted to familiarize myself with the role, dust off the cobwebs on my English accent, and begin to think through a characterization. We had less than two weeks until first preview. Since I had the luxury of devoting all of my time to the role, it shouldn’t be a problem. I did thank my stars I was a quick study.