by Various
Magic. Yeah, that's what. Ghosts can do magic, can't they? Witch you any old way they can?
See, I said so. Not my fault at all. I don't lie. I don't care what he said, or the way that tired-eyed skinny lady with the clipboard looked at me that time she come 'round to ask all those questions. I don't ever lie.
I don't know I'm still shaking 'til Granny Teeth lays one hand on my arm and I feel my flesh twitch and shudder in her grasp. Her face is flat and calm, like the surface of a pond. Almost I dream I'm seeing her eyes through a depth of brown, weed-scummed water. She's got kind eyes. She's not even some mad at me. Not like the waste-my-time clipboard lady at all.
"Corey ..." Hearing my name soft-spoke that way makes the shakes stop. She takes away her hand from my arm. "I did not mean to frighten you. I am only here to help you and Sammy. It is difficult. There are too many walls, but I must try. It is a debt. A vow I made. Do you understand vows, child?"
I nod. Not that I do understand or anything, not really. Vows are for when you get married. Who'd marry a ghost, birth a bunch of ghost babies? Debts are what bills mean—too many bills, not enough money; too many mouths, not enough work got in return to make feeding 'em worth a man's while. But only live folks got debts to pay and money to pay 'em. What's she mean to do? Count out stacks of dead leaves into Sammy's hand?
Granny Teeth got the gentlest smile I ever see, even if it does always look half sad. "You are a good boy, Corey." Her hand's cool, full of the spring-earth smell cupped in the palm. "You will help me pay out what I owe Sammy, and there will be enough left to repay all that is owed you, too."
Owed me? What's owed me? 'Cept the farm, and the earth, and I'm not going back for that. Uncle John wanted it so bad, let him keep it. Maybe my daddy'd should've left it to him, like he was always saying after he drunk too much. Sometimes when he didn't drink a drop. I don't want nobody owing me nothing. Just let me alone.
The longer Granny Teeth looks at me, the stiffer her smile gets until there's no softness left at all. Little ghosts get under my skin just looking at her. Stern, she says, "To bury such treasure! This is sin. It shall be repaid! Oh yes, this debt too." Then she's gone.
Well! Sure enough, now I do know what of Granny Teeth meant with all her talk of debts and help and the like. Treasure! Why, sure, I heard the tales, the old ghost stories telling how the dead lead the living to riches hid deep in the walls of abandoned houses, buried at the roots of old trees.
But when it's light and I wake up Sammy to tell him what Granny Teeth's promised us, he just laughs.
"Treasure, Corey? Her? Tell me some of gook ghost got any money hidden? Sure, maybe a coupla dozen coins buried back in 'Nam, but here? Sorry, Champ. No way you and me're gonna go back to 'Nam to dig up that kinda treasure."
He don't say no more about it and I don't say nothing too. I think maybe Granny Teeth's gonna come looking after us, all her talk of paying, but that's the last I see of her for nights and nights.
Sammy and me, we press on. Nights, it gets lonesome. Sammy and me, we make fire, steal fire, borrow fire anyplace we can. When we take another man's fire, Sammy pays with his stories 'bout 'Nam. If they'll hear 'em. Sometimes the men we meet got too many 'Nam stories of their own and don't even want what they got to start with. Then we move on.
Finally the night comes when the dark runs out and all the sky's a light we can't ignore. No more shadow-walking. ("Folks see a raggy man like me with a kid like you, they'll ask questions, and I got no time for answers. Let's try to get there on the quiet, Corey.") There ain't no more shadows. Lights everywhere, every street, every road, and the sky ahead's holding a white dusting of light that makes the shapes of buildings burn black and shiny against my eyes.
City light. Washington, D.C., city lights. Sammy says we're almost there.
We walk in over the hard roads. Nighttime and no rain. Sometimes, beside the highways, there's trees. Days, we sleep there. I like the feel of the bark against my back, the roots twisting down deep into the earth like they're looking for something they lost. I put my ear to the trunk and dream I can hear the old tree's heartwood singing.
Soon there's big buildings, harder roads, and more houses than trees. Sammy says we're in the city itself now. We pass houses where the light inside's all warm and gold. I put out my hands to catch the sweet spill of it, like it was magic that could warm me. Oh, it's cold out here! I stare at the windows, slabs of shining light thick enough to be tombstones, holding back the warm, keeping it away from me. I can't hardly recall how it used to feel, being on the right side of windows, and a roof above, and someone to give me a way to keep warm without a fire to sear my skin.
I look at my arm. The old marks' still there. Little round red blisters all up and down the inside of both my arms from the cigarettes. Some come fat, some come thin. Uncle John rolled his own. Be a man, Corey! Christ knows, you eat enough for a man!
I can still smell the soured beer hot on his breath. The sizzle of my own skin clogs my ears so much, sometimes I miss hearing anything else. So, when I try, why can't I remember more than the sweet spring earth smells, and the little red shovel, and the tufty yellow flowers by my eyes? Where's my mama's face? Where's my daddy's arms to keep me safe, the way he promised when she died? But all I got to wrap 'round me in the dark is Sammy's old green blanket, and that smells burnt some too.
Comes the night we don't got to steal fire no more. There's steam grates to lie on, and that feels nice. The other folk, the ones who tell us to shove over, we got their spot and they'll fight us for it maybe, Sammy knows what to say to 'em:
"Look, I got a kid here." And they kinda blink their eyes and tilt their heads like sorry old birds to stare at me. But they move over and they let us rest.
This is the night we'll go there. Where's there? I don't know. Only Sammy said it like it was the most important thing in the world, there. He puts all the weight of his heart behind a word, you know it's important, even if you don't know nothing else, nor need to be asking.
"Soon as it's dark, Corey," he says. "We're gonna go there. I'm gonna sleep some now, you stand guard, okay? Sentry duty. You can sleep tonight, while I do what I came here to do."
"I don't wanna sleep then," I tell him. "I wanna help you do it." He smiles at me, and when he reaches out his hand to touch my cheek I don't flinch back. Funny. His hand's hard, got a bitter, sad smell to it, but under the shell there's a kindness makes it softer than anything in my memories. "You don't even know what I'm here to do," he says.
"I don't care," I tell him.
"Yeah, I guess you don't." His smile gets some brighter, and it's so sweet to feel a hand on me that don't got any pain behind it. "Okay, then. But I bet you're gonna be all confused. See, there's a vow I've got to keep—"
"A vow! You getting married, Sammy?" It's the first I hear of it, and my stomach goes to knots.
"Marri—? Nah, not that kind of vow, kid!" He laughs, and I can share it with him. "A vow's a promise, is all. Just let me do what I gotta, you keep quiet. If you get bored waiting, find something to do with yourself, no questions until after, then I'll explain, deal?"
"Deal." I nod. I'm good at keeping quiet. And a vow's a promise; now I know.
"Okay," he says again, curling up like a fat of caterpillar in his green blanket. "Wake me when it's sundown."
While he sleeps, I watch the people. They don't see us. We're camping on a steam grate up against one of the big buildings here. There's plenty of bushes for cover. Sammy told me all 'bout how that's important, cover. There's all kindsa ways a man can hide, he said, and sometimes knowing when to hide will save you. I knew that already; I just wasn't so good at it. I sit real still on guard over Sammy. I find this big branch and I pretend we're in 'Nam together, and I got a gun in my hands. Nobody better try to mess with me now. He tries, I'll shoot him dead.
I watch the feet of the people passing by, see 'em through the roots and low branches of the bushes. It's boring all right, but I stay true to my promise.
My vow. Now I got me a vow to keep too, like Granny Teeth, like Sammy. I start off pretending that I'm all there is to stand between him and them who'd stop him from keeping his vow, and I end by believing it's truly so. Like a little nothing kid like me could really do anything to keep off danger! Like I got any kinda power in me at all, that's so funny! That's so funny, I forget to laugh.
Then she's there. One minute I'm watching these feet going by, counting the high heels and the polished fancy shoes and the cool high-tops, and then being surprised 'cause there's this one pair of scruffy of blue bedroom slippers hustling past, and then all of a sudden the scruffy blue slippers turn the corner of the bushes and come right on in, and it's Granny Teeth herself.
Why's she want to come here like this, in daylight? I thought ghosts don't like the day. Maybe that's just evil ghosts as fear the light. I don't know too much, I guess.
"Corey, does it go well with you and this man?" she asks, like always.
"We're doin' good, Granny Teeth," I tell her. "We're almost there. Tonight's when we're gonna do it."
Granny Teeth nods. "His vow. He told my daughter of it many times. I often saw them sitting together, speaking. She told me he was a man who carried the burden of many ghosts, although he was guilty of none of their blood. To carry a ghost's weight is a heavy thing, child. No wise man does it willingly. It is done when it can not be helped, for guilt. But sometimes it is done for love."
"Sammy love your daughter?" I ask. Could be he is getting married. My stomach hurts around that.
She shakes her head this time. "His promise was made to all my family, not just to her alone. No one believed him but me. We were his friends; he told us he would be our shield. That vow was kept. When the soldiers left our village but came back later, running, frightened, all the eyes of the jungle burning cold into their backs, acting as if they did not remember who we were, friend or foe, he was the only one who stood between us and them—them, his own people!—so that we could flee their fear, the fear that killed first without asking, without thought, without—"
Granny Teeth sighs away the rest. "He did not love my daughter as you would think, child. But yes, he did love her."
I'm confused. "How come you say, no, he didn't love her, then, yes, he did?"
She squats down flatfooted so's we're eye to eye, and the shiny black of her eyes holds me so still I 'most forget to breathe.
"Because, Corey, in this world there are as many loves as ghosts, and as many vows as loves." Then she's gone.
When it starts to get dark, I wake Sammy. I'd been thinking on what Granny Teeth said and I still couldn't make heads or tails of it, so I decide it wasn't worth more trouble. Still, I have to ask:
"Sammy, what's this vow of yours you're gonna keep?"
He just says, "You'll see," and he stows his blanket and picks up his pack and takes my hand warm in his.
It wasn't far we had to go. Just a couple city blocks, and into some trees and out again. The moon wasn't up yet that I could see. There's this long stretch of flat ground, and a big lawn all crisp with frosted grass. Sammy says, "Sure did get cold early this year." I been feeling cold so long, it don't make much difference to me, but it seems like it matters to him, so I agree.
There's some signs. There's a pretty domed building near our end of the lawn, lit up white. There's this metal thing like a one-legged table, like the place where the preacher stands up in church and rests his Bible when he gives the sermon. Sammy goes over to it, and I see how weird it is, because instead of being a place you can rest a book on top of, there's this big fat book underneath the glassy top, see, and Sammy has to reach under to turn the pages. The book's chained down. Why'd anyone want to chain a book?
I guess Sammy was right 'bout me getting bored. I watch him turn the pages awhile, but he goes so slow. I look around some more. There's some people strolling in the dusk, but they walk right by us 'cause we're so raggedy-looking. Sammy says being poor's next best to being invisible. I look back at Sammy and I see there's some drops of wet starred out on the glass. I hope it don't start to rain again for real until we're done.
Sammy stands up straight, holding on to the edges of the glassed-in book like he's gonna preach a text. He even cries out, "Oh Lord!" like he's moved by the Spirit. But I remember he's a Jew, and I don't think they do it like that. His hands look mighty white, especially where they're grabbing hold. You can almost see the metal edges and the glass cutting through. I feel my whole chest get tight with fear so's it starts a black burning. I'm afraid.
When he lets go, I can draw breath again. He don't say 'nother word to me, just jerks his head so I know I'm to follow. We walk to this statue of three soldiers. That's where he lays down his pack and takes out a funny little thing, like a ladies' pockabook, almost, only it's flatter and smaller and it don't got a strap. It's white with blue stripes, 'cept it's so dirty the white part's just a guess. Sammy unzips it and takes out a book and a shawl.
He puts the shawl on his head. It's clean enough so's you can see it really is white and blue; got all these fringes at the bottom, but not all the way across. He surely does look funny with that thing draped over his head. "I lost my yarmulke a long time ago," he says to me, and smiles when he realizes I don't know what the hell he's talkin' about. "Never mind, Corey." The book's a clean blue and he kisses it.
There is a place in the earth and you go down into it slow. I follow Sammy, but it's like he don't see me no more. There's a sliver of black, shiny stone rising at our feet like a wave, and the farther down we go into the earth, the higher up the black stone rises. Sammy looks straight ahead, like he don't know the black wall's rising at his left hand. I follow him, and there's a scary tingling in my bones.
I look down at the gray walk at my feet because I don't want to see the wall. I tell myself It's rock! It's just rock, what's to be afraid of? Don't be so stupid, Corey! 'til I sound like Uncle John, so I stop. There's things on the ground propped up against the wall, bright things with some color to them besides black and gray. I see a flag, folded up so just the star part shows, all wrapped in plastic. I see fake flowers bound in little wreaths, bobbing stiff on wire stems. I see real flowers, touched with frost, lying on the stone. There's a wind that comes up and sighs down into the earth. behind me, tugging at the little scraps of paper weighted down. One blows away, and something in me makes it important that I run and catch it and put it back by the wall. I can read the words, "We will always love you." Someone once said that to me.
I look up. The wall's taller now. I can just about see over the top to where the grass is growing. I can read the names in the wall, but they're just a lot of names to me. I look to where Sammy's gone ahead, deeper into the earth, his white fringey shawl blowing on the wind like a ghost. I wonder if he's going to go on forever, when he stops.
"Yit-ga-dal ve-yit-ka-dash she-mei ra-ba—" Sammy's voice climbs the wind and the wall and the night like a ladder of angels. "Be-al-ma di-ve-ra chi-re-u-tei—" All the words he sings, they must be the right way for a Jew to pray, 'cause I don't understand a one. "Ve-yam-lich mal-chu-tei be-cha-yei-chon—" It's his voice I understand. I can feel it straining for the sky, crying out, tugging at the one tip of God's sleeve that trails down out of Heaven. Daddy! he's crying. Daddy, why'd you ever go away and leave me here alone? Oh Daddy, Mama, help me, save me, I need you, don't leave me! Mama, I'm so frightened! Daddy, I'm so cold!
He's touching the wall down there. I shiver in my skin. Cold, too cold, the black shiny stone. Even up here, where I can still see over the top, I'm scared to get too near.
But that's Sammy down there. And now he's done with all his wailing prayer. He's looking up here, smiling for me, stretching out his hand. I look over the top of the wall at the grass, all cold-killed and withered. If I look hard, I think I see what's left of living flowers. I look back at Sammy, and then I run into his arms.
"Just one more prayer, Corey," he says to me. He still looks funny under that white shawl. "Just the one I pr
omised them I'd say tonight. Tomorrow I'll see if maybe we can't find a synagogue'll let me in to say the rest of it, ask God to forgive us for all the bad things we've done. That's what this is all about, kid, no big mystery. My people have a special day for telling God we're sorry, that's all. I bet you understand about that, huh? Saying you're sorry, being told it's all right."
I understand. All except the part where you get told it's all right. I understand saying I'm sorry without knowing what I done, getting told sorry ain't enough. Getting worse than told, even while I'm screaming out I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . .
"But see," Sammy's saying. "See, when there's people you care about, people you've loved, and they can't stand up for themselves tonight, you've got to stand up for them. Anyhow, I promised them I would, back in 'Nam. This is a good night to keep promises. It's not just my sins I'm carrying tonight, but theirs. That's what we believe, that no man stands alone before God, that all of us carry our sins and our salvation."
He laughs. "Listen to me! Bugging a kid your age with words like salvation, when you probably don't know what I'm talking about."
I look at him very steady. "Jesus is my salvation," I say.
Sammy hugs me tight. "Good for you, kid. Good for you."
Then he's on his feet again and the words are pouring out. The singing's different, sadder than before: pleading, but not like a whipped dog's eyes beg you not to hit him any more. More like knowing you've hurt the one person you love best in all the world and you want to make it be all right again. Like all the pain for what you've done wrong is pain you've given away.
"Kol ni-dre ve-e-so-re, va-cha-ro-me, v'-ko-no-me. . . . " It's just Sammy and the wall. And the song. And maybe God.
I turn away. We're deep into the earth now, the wall's above my head. There's light behind us, cutting all the names so deep it's like the letters are a blacker black than the wall that's frozen 'round them. If I bring my nose up close to the stone, I can see that the black ain't all black. There's little flecks of light caught there, gold and silver, like it snowed stars.