by J. R. Tate
“First off, I’d like to thank all of you for coming today and spending your Saturday here. I’m sure Rose would appreciate it too.” The administrator adjusts the microphone as he speaks, glancing at her picture and back down to us. “As you know, Rose Gallagher was with us for many years. Started as a medical aid and worked her way up to charge nurse. She did a lot of great things for this hospital, so when they proposed the idea of a scholarship in her name for the nursing program, there was never any doubt in my mind that it was a great idea.”
I think about her struggles as she worked through school. When I met her, she was an aid, always complaining about having to do the grunt work. She paid her own tuition, worked nights to finish, and got pregnant with Rusty in between all of it. To this day, I’m not sure how she juggle did it, along with a toddler at home and a needy husband like me to worry about. The day she became an RN, I never saw so much pride on her face. I never felt so much pride. And her life was cut short. I’ll never understand why.
“Her husband, Lieutenant Nathan Gallagher is here today.” He points down to me, spotting me right in the middle. Damn, I thought I hid better. “He’s been with the fire department for years, about as long as Rose was on staff here. How about you come up and say a few words, Lieutenant?”
I decline at first, but of course, I’m not going to win. Everyone urges me on, including my son, and I try not to scowl as I make my way to the podium. I wipe my sweaty palms on the side of my pants and pull at my tie again. If I tug any harder, the damn thing will come loose. And who cares if it does?
Looking down at everyone, a lump forms in my throat. Rose had many friends, and it’s awful that I’m just now realizing it. Why do I have to do this again? I’ve already spoken at her funeral. She’s resting in peace.
“Thanks for coming today. And thanks to the hospital for such a kind gesture to my wife and to my family.”
What else is there to say? What do they want me to say? That I’m seeing her in my dreams? That she’s coming back as a ghost with her face all cut up? That her intentions are to harm me if I don’t help her? I’d surely clear a room fast if I did that. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.
“I’m not sure what else to say.” I laugh and make eye contact with Rusty in the crowd. He’s frowning and I realize I’m failing miserably. “Someone earlier told me they are feeling the huge void she left here at the hospital. I feel it too. She left some huge shoes to be filled.” I run my hand over the back of my neck. “Thanks again for this. I appreciate it more than you know.”
I don’t give them a chance to say or do anything else. Stepping off the podium, I exit through the back, hurrying to my truck. Dialing Rusty’s phone number, I hope he hears it. I’m ready to go. I’m ready to duck out before more people bombard me. He doesn’t answer and I hang up, dialing him again. I continue until he hears it or feels it vibrating.
“Damn it Rusty, you spend all of your damn time on the phone and now you won’t answer.” I clench my jaw and when I look up, he’s standing on the other side of the pickup bed. “Hey Russ.”
“You okay?” He’s concerned rather than angry.
I rest my arms on the bed and duck my head, laughing. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Son.”
“That was a brave thing you just did. You know that, right?”
Glancing at him, I check to make sure he’s not being sarcastic. “No need to lie. I was dying up there.”
“No. No you weren’t. It all was fine. You were sincere. They shouldn’t expect anything more from a man who just lost his wife, and I don’t think they do.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek and stand up straight. “You can go in and get some lunch if you want. Not sure what they’re serving, but I don’t think I can stomach anything right now.”
“I’m fine. Let’s go get some greasy cheeseburgers and go home.”
“Food and sex – is that all you think about?”
Rusty smiles. “You were my age once. Don’t pretend you don’t know how it is.”
“Who says I have to be your age to think about it?” It’s funny at that second, but also a harsh reminder that I’ll never be with the woman I love ever again. My interest in other women is non existent, and though so many people say I’ll eventually get over her and move on, I can’t see myself being romantic with anyone else.
“Yeah, you’re nothing but an old horn dog.” Thank goodness Rusty can’t read my mind. It’s a damn emotional rollercoaster.
I open the truck door and he follows suit, both of us climbing into the cab. “Horn dog? Who’s the guy who was about to seal the deal on the couch yesterday? Good thing I came home when I did! Saved us both the embarrassment had it been just a few minutes sooner.” It’s odd talking to my son about things like that, but at the same time, a nice break from our other issues. I have to face it – he’s a teenager. I’m glad we never had a daughter. Worrying about her dating guys like Rusty and me is added drama I definitely don’t need. I put Rose’s father through hell.
“Nah, Britney isn’t like that. She barely lets me kiss her.”
“Sounds like a good girl. You don’t wanna mess around with the fast ones anyway.”
“Yeah. I’m really into her.”
“That’s good, Russ.”
What I really want to tell him is to keep her away. The more she gets to know me, the quicker she’ll flee like I’m a burning building. Instead, I keep my mouth shut. It’s a small flicker of happiness on my son’s face, and even if it only lasts a few seconds, I’ll take it. I’ve done nothing but bring him down. Maybe Britney is just what he needs in the midst of all the bullshit he’s going through.
After we get home, we pretty much go our separate ways. Britney stops by to pick him up, and I’m fine with that – I feel like I need some time to myself after everything. I’m slowly becoming more of an introvert than I was before, and it’s like I have to recharge my energy any time I have any form of human contact. I’ve always been reserved, but it’s gotten worse, and I’m not sure it’s a good thing.
Evening is upon me, and I find myself still in my dress clothes. I’m not sure how that is possible, seeing as I am usually out of my tie the second I can rip it off. Time seems to fly – just like the night, where I blinked and it was morning. Just like when I had gotten up early for a shower, but it was already time to get to the hospital. Why is this happening? Why do I suddenly have no concept of time? If I try to find out, I might not like the answer I get.
Sitting on the edge of the pond, I shift my weight to make sure the dock doesn’t collapse under me. It’s shaky, but still has some support, and I pull my shoes and socks off. Grabbing a long stick, I run it over the surface of the water to make sure no water moccasins are around. Hell, I don’t even know if there are any in it, but I check anyway. Nothing bubbles up, so I dip my feet into the water – it’s cold compared to the heat and humidity. Almost too cold – like melted ice and snow, which makes no sense. It is summer, and the temperature hasn’t dipped below eighty even at night.
I try not to read too much into it. It could be fed by an underground spring. There’s nothing miraculous about it – just another way that nature is funny. Swirling my feet around, I lift my pants to make sure they don’t get wet. Looking in the distance, I watch as the fog hovers just above the water – and I should feel scared, but I’m not. Anyone else would probably pack it in for the night and go back in, but it’s mysterious and disturbing all in one. Deep down I know that the ghosts are slowly coming back into my life. My heart knows it’s happening again. But I’ll never admit it out loud. I feel like if I do, it’ll open up the backdoor to my brain to actually allow it. Even so, I’m not helping them. I can’t do it again.
“Nathan…”
I hear the whisper, and squint my eyes. There is a silhouette of a woman in the mist, or maybe it’s just my head playing tricks on me.
“Nathan, it’s me.”
I pull my legs out of the water and attempt to stand up, but th
e dock is wobbly and I stay where I’m at. One jolt and my ass is in the pond.
“Rose?” Hell, here we go. Maybe if I actually engage in conversation and literally say I don’t want to help, these souls will get the hint. I don’t want my wife to go away, but I also don’t want her here in this form. I want the calm, pleasant, and beautiful woman I married – not the mangled corpse that is gliding in front of me, right on the water.
She smiles and nods. “What are you doing, hon?”
“What am I doing?” I’m not sure what she’s asking.
“Don’t ignore us, Nathan. You know what happens when you ignore us.” Her voice has a hiss behind it, and it gets deeper. Her usual blue eyes are so dark that I can’t see where her pupils are. The gash on her forehead begins to bleed, and she reaches out, her hands soiled with dirt and mud, her fingernails long like the lady I first encountered.
“I can’t help you like this, Rose. I can’t do it.” I feel the tears sting my eyes. I want to pull her in and hug her. I want her to be okay. Seeing her like this after her accident pulls at me. No one deserves a death like that. She’s the mother of my child – how can this happen to someone like her?
“Why?” She continues to hold her hand out, and I suddenly realize that she’s closer to me than she originally was, and I don’t even know how she got there. She glides in mid-air, the fog enveloping her.
“It almost killed me last time. You need to find someone else. You being here is making me have to mourn your death all over again, and I can’t keep doing it. Rusty can’t go through it. We’re having a hard enough time.” My voice shakes and I plead with her, but she does not believe me. I can tell by her skeptical expression. She’s not hurt by my words – she doesn’t seem sad. Instead, she seems angry, like all of our years of marriage don’t mean anything. It’s like she’s forgotten about that, and the only thing she knows is that I have this damn gift or curse, providing me with the ability to speak to lost souls like hers. I’m curious to know what her unfinished business is, but I know if I engage in finding out, she’ll dig in deeper and I’ll never be rid of her spirit.
“Don’t ignore us, Nathan. You know what happens when you ignore us.”
She keeps saying that, and the fact that she says “us” makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. “Who else is here? Who else wants my help?” I can’t completely avoid questions, no matter how hard I try.
“You know. They’ve come too. You’ve seen them, though you swear it’s just your imagination. Don’t be ignorant, my dear Nathan. Everything you think you just dreamed up is here. They’re not going away. Don’t deny us.”
“Sammy and Lenora?” Why am I even bothering? I can’t show interest.
“You are a smart man, my love. Don’t risk yourself or Rusty by shutting us out.”
Is that a threat? Her snide smile tells me it is and at this point, I’ve had enough. I slowly stand up, balancing myself on the rotting dock, the water splashing underneath me. I stare her right in her cold, dead eyes. I have to tell myself that this is not the Rose I know. This isn’t her, and I have to stop associating it with her, otherwise I’ll never overcome the situation.
“I’m not helping you. I’m not helping the others. Go away!” I yell so loud that it echoes against the hills and trees, and a flock of crows flies from the branches above me, away in a black cloud.
“Don’t do this, Nathan! Don’t deny us!” Her voice sounds distant, but she’s still right where she was, right on the pond.
Turning, I attempt to take one step off of the dock to solid ground, when I feel hands on my shoulders, pushing me backwards. I fall into the water and am pulled under, the restraints of someone’s arms wrapped around me with so much force that I can’t fight free. I see the surface of the water, illuminated by the moon, get farther and farther away as I get forced deeper and deeper. My lungs burn, and I kick and thrash, trying hard to free myself from whatever force has hold of me.
The water is murky, but clear enough that I can see some things around me. Strings of moss circle me, but still, I can’t tell what has the tight clutch on me. It has to be Rose. Or maybe it’s Sammy, her and Lenora, all three working together since I’m not willing to help them. I see a group of water moccasins not far off and I fear the poisonous snakes instantly. It’s as if whoever has me knows my fear of them, and I start to drift in that direction. I fight hard and my energy is zapped. Either the snakes will get me or my lungs will eventually fail me. I’m not sure which will happen first, but with the way my body feels, I’ve only got a few more seconds of oxygen in my system before I drown.
The edges of my vision grow dark. This is it. This is how it’s going to happen. I’m going to drown in my own pond, and people will think I either killed myself or just fell in. What will become of Rusty? At least I will be free of the ghosts that haunt me. I’ll become one with them.
I close my eyes and embrace it. What else can I do?
Chapter Seven
Rusty
I get home a little after ten, long before the curfew my dad set for me. I kiss Britney goodbye and when I go in the house, everything is dark. The TV isn’t on and there is no sign of my dad anywhere. Maybe he’s in bed already. He’s been going to sleep a lot earlier than usual, and after today, I wouldn’t blame him. I’m emotionally drained myself.
I turn on the hall light and go up the stairs, trying to be quiet. He’s had a hard time sleeping, so I don’t want to ruin it if he is. I look into his room, and he’s not there. The bed is made and again, there’s no sign of him.
“Dad?”
Nothing. Not a peep. His truck was in the driveway when we pulled in, so where is he? Stepping out the backdoor, I fight off any nerves I have of the land and go toward the pond. He’s been drawn to it for some reason. Maybe he’s out here enjoying the cool night. I hope I don’t interrupt him if he wants to be alone.
“Dad?” I yell again, and I don’t see or hear anything.
I pick up my pace, reaching the pond. “Holy shit!” I see his motionless body lying on the dock, on his side, and he’s drenched. Running, I slow down so I don’t knock him back in the water. The wood shakes and the water ripples beneath us, and I pull him on his back. He’s unconscious and I check for a pulse. There is one, but he’s not breathing. I’ve only ever taken a basic course on CPR and I try to remember what to do. My adrenaline pumps and I begin chest compressions, hoping to free the water from his lungs.
So many questions come to mind. What happened? “C’mon Dad, wake up for me!”
I pinch his nose and breath into his mouth, and his chest fills with my air. He coughs out the water and his eyes open wide, but it’s like he doesn’t recognize me. There’s so much fear on his face, and he tries to scoot away. I grab his shirt to prevent him from falling in again, but within seconds he’s unconscious again, but at least he’s breathing on his own.
I reach for my phone and dial nine-one-one. Since we are out in the country, I’m not sure how long it is going to take them, but I stay right by his side, ensuring that he’s breathing and making sure he’s got a pulse. I’m no medical person, and I’m not sure if he’s going to be okay. He’s breathing, that’s gotta be a good thing, I hope. I tell the dispatcher where we are and she assures me they will get an ambulance out to the house soon. But soon is relative – what does that mean to her? It seems like ages. They could take five minutes and to me, it’ll feel like a year with my dad lying here, his lungs full of water, and me with a thousand questions I need answers to.
The night air is filled with sirens and I wonder if I need to go flag them down at the driveway. But I also don’t want to leave my dad. He could roll back in the water and I don’t think I can move him. He’s bigger than me and he’d be dead weight. Besides, aren’t their rules for not moving someone? My worries about them finding the place fade when I see the ambulance come down the driveway. I guess they are familiar with the area, because it comes around the back of the house. Standing, I wave my
arms, hoping they can see me, and they do.
The first thing they do is move me out of the way and get Dad off of the dock. I can’t tell what is happening, as they form a circle and get to work, but I try to see anyway. A cop pushes me back – his desperate attempt to distract me.
“He’s in good hands. Tell me your name, Son.”
“Rusty. Rusty Gallagher.”
“And that’s your dad?” He points his thumb over his shoulder as he clicks a pen open to write on a notepad.
“Yes sir. Nathan Gallagher.”
“That name is familiar. How do I know that name?”
“He’s a lieutenant with the fire department.”
The cop’s eyes widen. “Ah, that’s right! I’m sure I’d have recognized him if…” He trails off, his eyes moving downward to what he’s writing. “Listen, there won’t be room in the ambulance. Do you have a way to get to the hospital?”
“Yeah, I’ll take his truck.” I hope he doesn’t check for a license. It’s something we were supposed to work on over summer break, but we haven’t gotten to it. I look toward the crowd, and they have my dad up on a gurney. His eyes open for a second, and the confusion on his face makes me want to run over to him so he’ll see a familiar face, but the cop is in my way.
“We’ll meet you there, Rusty. Your dad will be fine.”
Fine. What in the hell does that word mean anyway? I don’t think fine is real, but it’s too deep for me to think about at the moment. After they load him up in the ambulance, I hurry to the house and find his truck keys by the door. I make sure to grab my cell phone charger and go ahead and get his phone too. I feel panicked, like if I’m not at the hospital the moment the ambulance gets there, that I’m betraying my father. I want to be there when he’s fully coherent, if he does get to that point. He has to be okay. There’s no other option.