by Elise Faber
I start to say something else when there is a knock on the door. Both Jodi and I stand and look. "Yes?" she says before I have the chance.
"Ma'am. Is everything alright? We got reports of screaming." It's Higgins. Of course it is. I'm sure he's been paying attention to us since we got there. He never wanted us in that room, after all. I can see why now. He probably thinks his insurance won't cover paranormal activity. Actually, though, if this is real and really happens to other places, there should be something called paranormal insurance. Something to think about.
"I'm fine," she replies sweetly. "Just me and the husband getting a little too wild in here."
I'm pretty sure my eyes jump out of my head. I feel my cheeks burn. I turn toward her, and she shrugs with a sly little smirk.
Higgins clears his throat. "If you are certain, ma'am. But if you need anything, anything at all, you may call the front desk. I will send help immediately."
I can't hold my tongue any longer. "You know, Higgins. I'm in here too, you know? I can protect her from whatever it is you have in your hotel."
"What I have, sir…" His voice is low and dripping with sarcasm. "…is a spirit who won't let go. Who doesn't know it is dead and needs to be put in its place."
I feel the anger filling me, and I start toward the door to give Higgins a piece of my mine… and my fist. That's my wife he's talking about. My wife. Not some ghost. Not some scary spirit. My wife. The person I love more than anything else in the world. Even more than myself.
Jodi gets in front of me. She puts her hands on my chest to stop me. She's a little thing. Tiny, even if she has a bulldog expression and attitude about her sometimes. I could move her if I wanted. One swipe of my hand, and she wouldn't be in front of me anymore. One grab of her wrist…
I grab her wrist and squeeze, making her scream. Pain. She's in pain. And I caused it. I can't make myself care, though, because the red is inside me. She thinks she's seen me mad? She has no idea…
I stumble back. The memory… burning my brain. Me and Jessica. At home. No… a car. That didn't happen that way. It never… I never…
I. Hate. This. Hotel.
I shake it off and focus on Jodi, who has a very confused expression on her beautiful features. "He has no right," I tell her.
"I know."
"She's my wife."
"I know," she says as her hands run up my chest and grab my shoulders firmly. The comfort, the support, comes back, and I feel the anger washing away. "Will, it's fine. He's just being Higgins. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, right, Higgins?" She yells so Higgins can hear, but her eyes… they never leave me. They stay trained on mine. Such caring and compassionate eyes.
I wish I could have someone like Jodi around all the time. Someone who could get through to me even when I've lost myself. She seems like a good girl. Good and strong. A lot like Jessica.
I need someone like Jessica.
I need Jessica.
I need to move on and get past this, I know I do. It's just… it's hard. It's so damn hard. I think I need a drink.
"Right, ma'am. I'm sorry, Mr. Jenkins. No disrespect intended."
"Whatever," I say to save face. Inside, though, I've already forgotten what he said. I'm too busy staring into Jodi's eyes. A very big part of me wants to bend down and kiss her. I know it is wrong. I realize that. I'm not a moron. But there is something about her that is drawing me in. I'm trying to fight it. After all, my dead wife's ghost could be watching us right now.
Still…
Everything I have within me wants to stop fighting it, to give into something good and pure, something that doesn't hurt. Oh, it'll hurt after a while. When this night is over, and we go our separate ways, I'm sure it'll hurt horribly. But, for this second, for this moment, I want to forget all that.
Jodi is looking up at me with compassion in her eyes. Compassion… maybe even lust. I know that is a big jump, but a man can dream. I want her to want me to kiss her. Hell, I'd love for her to just lay one on me herself. I want to feel needed again. I want to feel love again. I want to feel… something… again.
And if it ticks Jessica off, I guess I don't care. Not at this moment. Not with Jodi looking at me like that. Not with my heart beating out of my chest. Not with physical sensations I haven't had in years coming back.
I walk toward her, causing her to move backward. She doesn't take her eyes off mine. She doesn't say a word. Doesn't protest. She lets me until her back hits the wall. We both stop.
I want her.
I need her.
I need…
"Ma'am." Higgins knocks three times on the door.
I'll break his fingers.
I don't back up. I'm not flush with Jodi's body, but I'm close. So very close.
I shouldn't be doing this. I know better. I. Know. Better.
But she's lovely.
She's gorgeous.
She's looking up at me with those bedroom-eyes I haven't seen in five years.
It's Jessica.
It's… Jessica.
Everything fades away… everything… until it isn't Jodi standing there, her back to the wall, her eyes up at mine. It's Jessica. She's wearing black pants and a white long-sleeve shirt. The same as she wore the last time I saw her…. when I kissed her goodbye at home…
…when we were in the car…
Jessica's hair is down, long flowing blond curls fall around her shoulders. Her eyes are beautiful, alive.
She smiles at me. "Hi."
"Jessica." I gasp. It's her. Finally. It's her! I hesitate before I run my fingers over her cheek. It's warm. So warm. So alive. She's here. She's with me.
I can bend down and touch her if I want. I can crash my lips to hers and make every bad thing I've ever thought disappear. I want to. God, I want to. I push her hair behind her ear.
In the distance, I hear mumbling. Voices. I can't understand them, nor do I want to. I have Jessica with me. The love of my life, and I refuse to let her go. Not again.
"I thought you were dead. They said…"
"I know what they said." She smiles up at me. "But they lied. I'm here. I'm here with you. We made it, Will. We made it. Just like you promised."
I tear my gaze from Jessica and look around the room. No longer is it dark and gray and gloomy. It is bright with white paint on the walls… lovely turquoise pillows on the bed. The sunshine is filtering through the windows. It's warm. It's lovely. It's amazing.
It's…
It's not daytime.
So why…
"Shhh…" She puts her hand on my cheek, causing me to close my eyes. "It's okay. It's all okay. It's the room."
"What?" I don't want this moment to end. I want to stay here forever. Stay with her. Love her. Take care of her. Forever.
I need her to know how sorry I am.
I need her to know everything.
"Will…"
I hear Jodi's voice in my head and I ignore it. I don't want her… not really. I want Jessica. I want her to be Jessica.
"Will," she says again, more forcefully this time. "Will…" It's Jessica. My Jessica. "…don't open your eyes. Stay here with me… Stay with me.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Jodi! I'm coming in!" It's Higgins yelling. So much for the ma'am.
"No, you're not!" she yells back.
"Will," Jessica begs. "Will, stay with me. I need you to stay with me. I need you to make love to me. I need you… I've always needed you."
"Jessica," Tears sting my eyes, and I try so hard not to open them. When I do, it might be over. I can't have that. I can't— "…stay with me," I plead. I'm not above groveling. I'm crying now. Actually crying. I pull her toward me, lay my head on the top of her head, and cry like I haven't cried since I was a boy.
It hurts.
I can't imagine anything hurting worse.
"I'm coming in." I hear Higgins kicking the door and Jodi yelling.
"No you're not, Gabe! You come in here, and you'll break the circle!
It'll get out!" she yells back.
"I don't care!" Higgins pounds on the door harder.
I keep my eyes shut. I keep holding on to Jessica. This can't end… It can't end…
She pats me on the arm. "It's okay," she says. Jodi.
Not Jessica.
Slowly, I open my eyes, tears streaming down my face. When I look down, it is Jodi in her black yoga pants and white tank top. She's crying too. I don't want to see that — I want Jessica to come back.
The wall behind Jodi is gray again. Gray and dark. Gray and gloomy. I'm back in the room. Back in the present. Jessica is gone.
"It's better now. Thank you, Higgins. You can leave," Jodi says loud enough for someone behind the door to hear. She keeps her eyes on me, eyes that are now rimmed in red. I hope I didn't hurt her.
"Are you sure… ma'am?"
"Yes. I'm sure. We will call the front desk if we need extra assistance. Thank you." Her voice sounds so formal now, so… I don't know… wrong. Definitely not how she spoke before— Did she call him Gabe?
"Do that," he ordered, then I hear his footsteps fading away.
"What the hell happened?" I ask. I let go of Jodi and jam my hands into my pockets. I ball them up into fists to try to keep myself grounded. Keep myself calm. "That was… intense."
"You can say that again." Jodi leans back against the wall and takes a deep breath. "You called me Jessica."
"You were her. I mean, you looked like her. And the room… it changed. It wasn't gray. It was white and beautiful." I wish I could explain it more, but I can't. There are really no words for what I experienced.
"So, you saw her? Jessica?" Jodi is breathing heavy. I hope it is because she got turned on by something I might have done rather than being scared of me. I don't want her scared. I can't take it if she gets scared of me.
I nod and back up, giving her room to breathe. "You were her. You were… It wasn't like you just looked like her. You were her. I saw it. I felt it. She told me if I opened my eyes, it would all disappear. Looks like she was right."
"Interesting," Jodi says for like the fiftieth time tonight.
Interesting isn't the world I'd use for it. I can't stand it anymore. I go into the bathroom, lock the door, and slide to the floor. If this is what I have to look forward to tonight, I don't think I can make it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Curious Case of Will Jenkins
I don't know how long I'm in the bathroom on the floor. I don't care, really. Tonight has gone all kinds of weird. I need it to be over. I don't think I can handle much more. The lights, yeah, that was pretty cool. Scary, but cool. Sort of like a parlor trick. It's the kind of thing I expect a ghost to do.
The whole Jessica thing? That was just wrong. So totally wrong.
How do ghosts even get in people's minds, anyway? How do they manipulate you until you aren't even sure what is real and what isn't? Is it the ghost? Or is it the hotel?
I know one thing. I'm ready to bolt, and I'd be gone too, if it weren't for Jessica, or the thought of her. As far as I know, she's here. It's the closest I'll ever be to her again. Well, the closest until I make it to heaven. Even as strange and horrible as this night has been so far, at least I'm close to her. That's more than I could say last night and the night before that and the night before that.
Maybe this hotel knows what you need, and it is giving it to me. It knows I need Jessica, so it gave her to me — just for a little while. Maybe the ghost hasn't even started.
Or maybe…
Oh, screw it! I don't know. I don't know anything that's going on.
All I know is that…
"Will?" Jodi pecks on the door. "Will, are you okay?"
Such a stupid question. "Yeah…" I stand and wipe the tears from my eyes. "…yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a minute, you know?" I go to the sink and splash some water on my face. When I look in the mirror, the young, clean-shaven guy I was five years ago greets me. I don't even flinch. Just the room. Just something playing with my mind.
I aged a lot in the last five years. I have gray hair now — gray in my hair, gray in my beard. I miss the guy now looking back at me. Yeah, he had his moments, his fits of anger every once in a while, but mostly, he was a decent person — I mean, unless Jessica ticked him off too much. He wanted what everyone wants: the perfect life. And he had it. He had it for longer than some people do.
I miss him. I miss her.
I miss my life.
"Hey…" Jodi knocks. All of this persistence from her is starting to get annoying. "…look, I hate to bother you, but it's getting close to time for it all to go down."
"Has it not already?" I grumble. Cause it so has for me.
"Baby, what you saw was just the tip of the iceberg for the craziness that is fixing to happen to us… to me."
I grab a towel and wipe the water from my face. It feels good. Warm. And it smells… strangely… like strawberries. Jessica loved strawberry-scented anything. "Scared? Need me to hold your hand?" I hope she gets that I'm kidding. I don't think Jodi Granger needs any man to hold her hand. I'm pretty sure she can take care of herself. She sure told that Higgins-guy to get lost.
"No, idiot. I need you to crawl into bed with me and pretend to sex me up so the crazy, vengeful ghost can come here and try to kill me."
When she puts it that way… "I'll be out in a second."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dead Men Tell No Tales
I would say this is weird, but I'm pretty sure I've used up my quota on the word weird tonight. It's… unusual. That's a good word. Unusual. It is unusual.
I'm lying in the bed. Thankfully, the ghost-hunting marathon is over, replaced by some movie about a giant octopus who mated with a small squid and made evil squids with eight arms and black ooze. I don't get it either.
The good thing is that I don't have to get it. I have to make out with Jodi.
There are worse things in the world.
Jessica— or the ghost — seems to only attack women, and these women are the ones in the bed with the men. We don't exactly know what they are doing in the bed; however, my guess is that with a man and a woman and a hotel, it ain't playin' Scrabble.
Unless that's what the kids call it nowadays.
Jodi is curled up next to me. My arm is around her, and her arm is draped over me. I thought about stripping down to my boxers, or at least taking my white undershirt off as some sort of we are really doing it to the ghost, but I figure that might be taking it too far. So, I left them on, begrudgingly. Jodi left her pants and her shirt on. We are sure going to have a fun makeout session this way.
I'm afraid, though, that I'll do something to embarrass myself. Or, at the very least, something that will offend her. I'm still, for lack of a better word, torn up from my encounter with Jessica earlier. I felt her skin. I smelled her lovely scent. I — I felt things, all right? I felt things, and I don't know if I can lie here with Jodi and not feel things again.
"You are very quiet," Jodi says, lazily drawing pictures on my chest with her finger.
I don't hate this.
"Not sure what to say." I laugh lightly. My hand finds her hair, and I slowly run my fingers through it. This is nice. Not real and all that, but nice. I wish every day could be like this… not with the ghosts and the jump-scares and all that, but this… with a beautiful woman in my arms in my bed. I wish that beautiful woman was Jessica, but we can't have everything we want, right?
"Yeah, me either," she admits. "Would you think less of me if I admitted to being nervous?"
I smile into her hair. "No, I think it would be understandable, given what we know about how this… thing… goes after women. I figure I'm the safe one."
Jodi hesitates before she speaks again. "It's difficult… knowing how ghosts are going to take it."
"Take what? The salt? The being sent to the afterlife against their own free will? I don't imagine they take to that very well."
"No," She sighs, "they don't."
"You neve
r told me what you think happens to them after you get rid of them." I'm not sure I want to know. If a person is good, really good in real life and is bound for heaven, what happens to them when they become a vengeful spirit after going crazy by being left on earth? Do they still get to go to heaven? Does what they've done as a ghost count against them? Doesn't seem fair if it does. I mean, it's not — entirely — their fault they went crazy, especially those who didn't follow their reaper, due to love. How can God hold that against you?
Love… the thing that covers a multitude of sins. If you do bad things for love, are those things really bad?
Points to ponder.
"The worst thing…" She goes on like I never even asked about what happens when they get rid of spirits.
She's hiding something from me. I know she is. I'm scared to ask her about it, though, because I'm fairly sure I won't like what she tells me.
"…the worst part of it all is when I have to tell a spirit that they are dead."
I snicker. "How can a ghost not know it's dead?"
"You'd be surprised." She keeps drawing on my shirt with her finger. The way her fingers make curves and lines makes me incredibly sleepy.
Calm… I'm calm. It's nice to be calm.
"No, seriously. I don't get it. How can someone not know they are dead? Do they not remember dying?"
"Sometimes," she goes on.
My eyes shut as I listen to her voice.
"I don't know, I guess they don't remember. Traumatic events, I guess, people don't like to remember them. I've seen ghosts go back home like nothing ever happened. To them, it hasn't. They don't remember, or rather they choose not to remember. They have no idea they are dead, and they keep going on about their life, staying wherever they are, wherever they ended up. And eventually, they get violent, Even if they don't know they are or realize it. People get hurt. That's when they call me."
"You and Gabe?" I correct. I'm not as calm anymore.
"Me… whoever. They call us, and we take care of the problem."
"And the ghost goes willingly?"