“That I was like everyone else. Well, I’m not. Listen, Blake,” Joe took Blake’s hand, “that night you told the ghost that you loved me. I love you, too.”
Tears stung Blake’s eyes and they embraced.
“I’m sorry,” Blake said. “I’m yours if you still want me.”
“I do. Brian told me something else.”
“What?” Blake searched Joe’s handsome face for a clue.
“That you did some kind of spell to get rid of your powers. Please tell me that isn’t true. I would never have asked you to do that, never.”
Blake was suddenly irritated with Melody, knowing that she must have called Brian.
“It’s true. I’m glad to hear you say what you did, but it’s done.”
Joe sighed and squeezed Blake’s hand. “I hope you did the right thing.”
“I did. Now we can have a normal life together without worrying about ghosts, I promise.”
“Want to see my scar?” Joe wagged his eyebrows conspiratorially.
“I’d love to. But are you able to—”
“No major physical exertion,” Joe said, as if reciting instructions, “but I’m sure we can come up with something.”
As they walked back to Blake’s apartment hand in hand, Blake couldn’t believe his luck. How could he have misjudged Joe so totally? He vowed that, from now on, he would do everything possible to be the best boyfriend in the world.
Upstairs, in the privacy of Blake’s condominium, they kissed passionately, each hungry for the other after their days apart. Carefully, Blake pulled Joe’s T-shirt off and stopped when he saw the top of a white bandage peeking over the waistband of his jeans. Blake crouched, resting on his knees, and softly kissed the bandage. Joe unbuttoned his jeans and let them slip down his legs and pulled the front of his briefs down, revealing the entire bandage.
Blake looked up at Joe’s face, but Joe smiled back at him, as if apologizing for his changed appearance. With great care, Joe peeled the white surgical tape away from the bandage, exposing the ugly gash that marred his otherwise flawless abdomen. Blake was surprised at how small the incision was, and how quickly it seemed to be healing, even if the skin was still red and swollen.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“A little, especially when I have to use my abdominal muscles, like when I get out of bed.”
Blake kissed the wound lightly, then kissed Joe’s pubic hairs, which were poking over the top of his lowered underwear. Joe’s cock stirred, and Blake pulled Joe’s underwear down to his ankles and began to kiss the swollen cock. He suddenly stopped, looked up at Joe, and whispered, “I promise to be gentle.”
*
The next day, Blake awoke early, determined to serve Joe breakfast in bed. He was careful not to disturb him as he slipped into a robe and made his way into the kitchen.
The night before, Blake had convinced Joe he should stay at the Nob Hill condo while he was recovering. After that, they would see where things led, although Blake hoped the arrangement would become permanent.
Blake was retrieving a carton of eggs from the refrigerator when the phone rang, and he ran to grab it, not wanting to bother Joe. He was sure it was Melody, and he had a few things to tell her, anyway. Without looking at the caller ID, he said, “Hello, Melody.”
“Hello, son.” His father sounded tired and broken.
Chapter Nineteen
The sudden death of his mother was more than Blake could bear, especially in light of their last conversation. She had passed quietly in her sleep the night before, but all Blake could think of was their last conversation and how he had disappointed her, how he had bound his powers despite her protests. If only he had visited more. He cursed himself for all the years they had missed together and worried that, somehow, over time he would forget what she looked like. And now, without his ability to talk to ghosts, he would never see her again.
“I didn’t even know she was sick,” Blake sobbed into the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me, Dad?”
“She didn’t want to worry you.”
“How long did you know?”
“For over a year. She wanted it this way…no hospital, no drugs. She wanted to be here at home.”
“She seemed so well during my visit.” Blake collapsed heavily onto the sofa.
“You know how your mom was.” Ben sounded weary, and Blake felt instantly guilty for not having been there, for not being there with his father.
“I’ll get the first flight down that I can. I love you, Dad.”
Blake ended the call and looked around the apartment, at everything he had amassed since moving in there. What did any of it matter now that his mother had died? He still had so much to tell her, so many questions he wished he had asked. For the first time since that night at Melody’s apartment, he wished he had his powers back. Reluctantly, he dialed Melody’s number and told her the news.
“Blake. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Mel. Can you watch things around the office while I’m gone?”
“Of course. My vacation’s over anyway. You go and take as long as you need. Everything will be fine here.”
Blake was silent, his heart in his throat. Why couldn’t he ask?
“Blake? Are you okay?”
“I…I wish I hadn’t given up my powers,” he finally managed, “especially right now.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes. I was stupid, and Joe doesn’t even mind that I can see and talk to ghosts.”
“I’ll be right over.”
She hung up the phone, leaving Blake confounded. He looked at the clock on the wall and walked into the bedroom to share the bad news with Joe.
*
Hurriedly explaining the morning’s events to Hope, Melody quickly dressed and retrieved the wooden box containing Blake’s cord from the cupboard. She arrived at Blake’s condo twenty minutes later and found Blake and Joe in the kitchen. Joe was drinking coffee, while Blake spoke on the telephone with an airline ticket agent. Joe smiled feebly as she entered.
“Hi,” she whispered, “nice to see you again, Joe.”
“You, too.”
“Hey,” Blake said after he got off the phone. “Thanks for coming over.”
He and Melody embraced and she placed her backpack on the counter.
“I’m flying down tomorrow morning. Joe’s going to stay here. Would you mind checking in on him?”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re recuperating,” Blake said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay, I give up. It’ll give me a chance to get to know Melody a little better.”
“Blake,” Melody said, looking serious, “did you mean what you said on the phone? About wishing you hadn’t done the spell to bind your powers?”
Blake nodded and sat down at a counter stool. “If I still had my powers, I’d be able to see my mom again. And it turns out I was completely wrong about Joe.”
Joe squeezed Blake’s hand across the marble counter.
Melody pulled a wooden box from her backpack and handed it to Blake, who looked puzzled. Carefully, he opened the hinged box and discovered his knotted cord, then looked up at her.
“I thought I told you to burn this,” he teased her. “Thanks for not listening to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Does this mean you can get your powers back?” Joe asked.
Blake looked at Melody.
“Knot spells are the easiest to reverse,” she explained. “Just untie each knot in the reverse order they were tied in and, with each knot, wish your powers back.”
Blake carried the box into the living room, placed it on the coffee table, and carefully extracted the yellow cord. He looked up at Melody as she entered the room, followed by Joe.
“Do you need to do your circle thing again?” he asked.
“No, not for this.”
He shifted his gaze to Joe. “Are you sure you�
�re okay with this?”
Joe sat down next to Blake on the sofa. “I told you I love you for who you are, and I meant it.”
Blake kissed Joe on the lips. “Thanks, Joe.”
Then, with his friends watching, Blake unraveled the cord, wishing his powers back with each opened knot. The way the familiar whispers once again filled the room was almost comforting.
*
The flight to Albuquerque was a fast one, and this time Ben was waiting for his son at the gate. They embraced and Ben held Blake tight for a moment before releasing him.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
Ben nodded, then sniffed. “I’m fine.” He took Blake’s bag, despite his protests. “How about you?”
“I’m good,” Blake said. “Dad, I had Melody reverse the spell we did. I have my powers back.”
“Your mother will be glad to hear that.”
“What?” Blake looked slightly taken aback. “What do you mean?”
Ben smiled at him. “I can’t see her, of course,” he said, “but she’s there at the house. I can sense her. And I have a feeling she’s been waiting for you to arrive.”
*
His father’s house seemed gloomier than he remembered from his last visit. Blake noted, too, the effect on his prized garden. The plants that had once dripped over the sides of hanging baskets were now brown and lifeless. The vegetable garden, once so abundant, was now weedy, and vegetables were rotting on the vine. The once-impressive wildflowers were the only plants that seemed to have survived, but even they looked tawdry now, thick and overgrown and extending over their once clearly marked boundaries. Even the koi in the pond seemed to be in mourning and floated listlessly in the water. This sudden decay, almost overnight, surprised Blake. It was as if his mother had managed to take the life out of the house when she left. There was so much he wanted to ask her when the time came.
The wind chimes in the yard were silent as they pulled up in front of the house but, fortunately, Blake glimpsed the little girl, Jacqueline, skipping through the yard. She disappeared when she reached the next house.
For the first time in his life, Blake felt happy, blessed even, with his gift. Though he had fought it for years, something about seeing spirits comforted Blake, as if their mere existence proved there was more to life than was obvious at first. Not that Blake believed in an all-knowing God—not in the Christian sense anyway—any more than he believed in a heaven or a hell. All he knew for a certainty was that there was definitely life after death. He had to be helping the spirits cross over to someplace, right? He simply didn’t believe that they were being sent to any place that the human mind could really comprehend. Blake figured he would discover what that meant specifically once he had died himself.
He had been a fool to think that he could separate that part of himself, he now realized, and he was grateful that he had been given a second chance.
“Come on,” Ben said. “Your mother’s waiting.”
The cat, Dexter, meowed at them as they entered the house, and Blake stared sadly at his mother’s crystal ball, which rested on its table by the window.
“I don’t know what to do with her things,” Ben said, following Blake’s eyes. “I don’t feel right putting them away…not yet.”
A sound on the stairs caused Blake to turn and there, descending the stairs, was the spirit of Lila Danzig.
“Mom’s here,” Blake said.
“I told you. Tell her I miss her.”
“Tell him I know that,” Lila replied. Blake repeated her words to his father.
“And ask her where she put my reading glasses.”
“Tell your father that they’re in the drawer beside the bed where he left them.”
Blake repeated this information and laughed. “This is crazy. I feel like you two are arguing and I’m stuck in the middle.”
Ben patted him on the back and said, “You’re right. I’ll go tinker around in the yard. You two talk.”
As Ben walked outside, Blake turned back to his mother’s spirit. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? I would have been around more often.”
“You were so busy. I didn’t want to trouble you over something that was inevitable.”
“But I’m your son.”
“And I’ll always be your mother. And, by the way, when did you regain your abilities?”
“Yesterday. Melody helped me reverse the spell.”
Lila laughed. “Your father said you would make the right decision. I suppose he knows what he’s talking about every now and then.”
“Actually, I only did it so I could see you again. But now that it’s done, I’m glad to have my gift back.”
Dexter meowed loudly at Lila’s spirit from a windowsill in the living room.
“Dexter,” Lila scolded him, “you have plenty of food, you bad cat.”
“I’ll bet poor Dexter doesn’t know what to make of this.”
“He doesn’t,” Lila said, “but he knows something has changed.”
The fact that animals and children were far more capable of seeing spirits than most adults had always intrigued Blake. Perhaps it was their sense of innocence, or the fact that they simply allowed themselves to believe that imbued them with the power. But why, as adults, most people simply stopped believing puzzled Blake. It was as if, upon reaching a certain age, a switch was flipped in people’s heads and faith in anything supernatural was suddenly gone, along with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.
“Your memorial service is tomorrow,” Blake said, turning back to Lila. “Are you going?”
“Are you serious?” Lila looked scandalized. “Of course I’m going! I want to hear what people say about me. At least I had the common sense to be cremated. I hate it when people comment on how good a dead body looks.”
“I saw the little girl’s spirit,” Blake changed the subject, “the one you called Jacqueline.”
“She’s a dear, but she won’t leave me alone since I…well, since I passed. She thinks she’s gotten a new playmate.”
“Mom,” Blake said softly. “I’m glad to see you, but do you think you’ll hang around here? I mean, will I ever be able to see you again?”
“Remember what I taught you. If you want to contact spirits, Halloween is the easiest time to do it. But I’m sure I’ll be checking in on you and your father from time to time.”
“I hope so,” Blake said.
*
The small gathering at Lila Danzig’s memorial service comprised mostly neighbors from their street. Sadly, none of the old circus crowd had come because, as Ben explained, after the circus was disbanded, everyone “scattered to the winds.” As she had promised, Lila hovered around those in attendance, eavesdropping on their conversations. Blake did his best not to laugh at his mother’s shenanigans, even when she sat in the back row, commenting loudly on the platitudes that the officiating minister offered. After the service, Lila approached Blake.
“I’m not coming home with you and your father,” she said. “I want to go see some people. But tell your father I’ll check in on him soon.”
“I will,” Blake replied, keeping his voice low. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, darling.”
The spirit of Lila Danzig suddenly faded into a mist and disappeared.
*
Neither Ben nor Blake spoke during the drive home. Lila’s ashes were in an urn in Blake’s lap, and the marble felt cold in his hands, but he felt oddly serene, happy almost. This, he thought, is why his mother had always referred to his ability to see ghosts as a gift. What else would you call being able to speak to your recently deceased parent? It was an ability that few other people had the privilege of claiming, and it was one that Blake vowed never to part with again. Ben, on the other hand, seemed lost deep in thought. Blake turned to his father.
“Dad,” he said, “are you all right?”
Ben smiled sadly, never taking his eyes off the road. “I need to tell you something, Blake, something I promi
sed your mother I would never do. But you have a right to know.”
Blake stared at his father, speechless.
“I met your mother twenty-nine years ago when the circus—back then run by my father—was swinging down through a Mexican border town.”
Blake nodded. He had heard this story before. They met, Ben’s father didn’t like Lila for some reason, and Ben had threatened to leave the circus unless they could be married, and so they were, shortly thereafter.
“Your mother was pregnant when I met her. That’s why my father didn’t approve of our marriage.”
Blake stared at his father. If they had met twenty-nine years ago, the baby she was carrying had to have been Blake.
“I promised Lila I would raise you as my own son, which I am proud to say I did,” Ben said. “And I have always been very proud of you.”
“Who…” Blake found it difficult to speak. “Who was my father?”
“Some boy from her village.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Blake’s mind was reeling under the weight of the news. It was almost as if he had suddenly lost both parents at once.
“Your mother is gone,” Ben said. “I felt it was your right to know the truth, so that if you wanted to, you could go find your real father.”
“You’re my real father,” Blake said firmly. “And I’ll always love you.”
Ben’s eyes grew moist. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
*
That night, as they dined at the kitchen table, Blake turned to his father. “Would you ever consider moving to San Francisco? We would at least be able to see each other more often.”
Ben laughed and shook his head. “San Francisco is too big. I’m staying right here. But thank you for the thought.”
“But, Dad, this house is so big and I’m worried that you’ll be lonely.”
“Son, I’d be lonely in San Francisco, too. A person doesn’t share their life with another for as long as your mother and I did and not feel a sense of loss.”
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