Grave Refrain: A Love/Ghost Story

by Glover, Sarah M.

  “I hate to tell you, but all that medium bullshit is true. There’s something about a drug-induced consciousness that allows us to break through. We can fry the less malleable mind.”

  “But you’re not speaking through one of them, you’re speaking through her.”

  “Yeah, I am. The medium’s the conduit, but I can choose another body once I’m through. Hey, blackie. God, you’re a looker.” Christian and Simon stared in perverse fascination at the sight of Zoey hitting on Margot.

  “Why not show up as a ghost?”

  “We’re limited to whom we can speak to in that form. Once we got a body, we’re golden, as long as you don’t die on us.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s near impossible to escape a suicide, and if we do survive, what’s left is pretty gruesome. So, you want to sit here and talk about rotting ghosts, pal? Or you want to save your woman?”

  Andrew nodded.

  “I’ve only got limited time, so I’ll cut to the chase. Nora is out of her mind, and she can’t tell me why, but I’ve got my suspicions. If it’s anything like last time, it can’t be good. She wants you to find this Lady in Red, that’s what people call her. The Lady in Red. Nora says you’ll understand if you follow the message in the ring. The Lady in Red knows where Nick’s ashes lie—and she knows all about the curse.”

  Suddenly Zoey convulsed. Christian launched to his feet and grabbed hold of her as she lurched back in her chair. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped; then just as quickly they rolled back into her head. “Shit, shouldn’t have said that. Information overload. You need to act now. Follow the clues, that’s the best you can do. If I tell you any more, I could hurt this girl. But listen, Emily, you are in some seriously bad danger.”

  “Why?”

  “The ring. Use it. Nora’s engagement ring. Your lover’s gift to you, use it to solve what you haven’t been able to.” Again Zoey contorted. “The connection’s ending. I’ve told you too much. I won’t be able to pass through again.”

  “What danger? What danger am I in? Tell me!”

  “Emily, don’t fail. You can’t fail!”

  “Why? What will happen? Please!”

  Zoey thrashed as though she was being beaten in the gut. Her hands flew to her hair, her face twisted in pain. Christian began yelling but not loud enough to block out the last two words that fell from her bloodless lips.

  “You’ll die.”

  With that, Zoey lashed backward like a contorted ragdoll, then fell forward, her multi-colored hair tumbling over her face. Egan cried out and collapsed onto the table as Andrew looked at Emily in horror.

  The circle had ended. Dwayne grabbed another joint.

  They were all alive. That’s the best that could be said, Emily thought ruefully.

  Huddled in the girls’ kitchen, some were smoking while others were drinking. With the notable exception of Andrew, Claudia, and Neil.

  Neil had departed immediately after the circle, pale and somber; he didn’t even bid them good night. Lord only knew what he was thinking. Maybe they would all receive an eviction notice the next day.

  The stoners, on the other hand, were heading out to party, totally jazzed that they had connected with the “next plane of consciousness.” Before they left, they made Emily promise to use their services for any further spirit communications, and even tried to offer her a joint in thanks. Andrew had slammed the door shut in their faces.

  After a wordless but forceful hug, he promised to join her as soon as he could and went off to get his mother situated for the night. Emily shuddered to imagine what that conversation would entail.

  “If you ask me, it’s all bloody bullshit,” said Simon, scrambling eggs. The coffee had finished its hissed percolation and warmed the air with its familiar aroma. “And what did that Egan bloke mean about ‘the spirit delving in areas far outside his purview’? Or why the hell did Andrew introduce you as…oh never mind.”

  Christian had his arms around Zoey, who was wrapped up in a blanket. He hadn’t left her side since she’d convulsed on the table. Luckily she was unharmed, only pale and shaking and prey to periodic fits of laughter.

  Margot, meanwhile, was deep in thought as she started to pour the coffee. Emily would have sworn her PhD mind would have dismissed everything as mumbo jumbo, but that wasn’t the case. “It’s all physics,” she mumbled to herself. “The greater the force the spirit exerts on this world, the greater the natural world forces its way back. Rules. To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

  “Rules, really?” Simon chided her, holding the frying pan out ready to serve. The kitchen clock read four a.m. They all looked like death warmed over.

  “I don’t know what to believe, honestly. All I know is that whatever it was, it wasn’t Christian or Zoey. And it frightened me. And I don’t do frightened.”

  Simon cast her a smile. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, blackie.”

  “I’m not worried about myself. I don’t have a death sentence hanging over my head. And what was all that talk about a ring?”

  With great reluctance, Emily slipped the ring off her finger, sure something must be inscribed inside. No one said a word about its significance, though she was sure that would come soon. Simon, however, seemed especially irritated by the sight of it.

  “Nothing that I can see.” She shook her head, feeling tired and hopeless. A sense of panic was bubbling up inside of her. A ghost had just warned her that if she didn’t act, and soon, she would be dead. Dead. Suddenly things had taken a horrible turn that she never could have expected. She needed to find Andrew and talk to him. She kept looking toward the dining room hoping to see him enter, but there was nothing there save shadows.

  “Can I take a look at the ring?” Christian asked.

  Emily handed it to him, and the diamonds and platinum refracted rainbows into the night. It was hard to believe it was truly Nora’s ring. Had she worn it in this house? Had she ever taken it off her finger? Emily’s hand felt naked without it, and she had only worn it for a few hours.

  Christian ran his pinkie around the inside and frowned. “Hmmm.” He reluctantly returned it. “So you need to find this Lady in Red, who not only wants you dead, but knows where Nick’s ashes are located?”

  “And this ring is supposed to show you how to find her?” Simon interrupted. “And if not, somebody’s going to pop a cap in your head? Bullshit, I’m telling you. Hocus-pocus bullshit. It’s fucking ridiculous, all of it.”

  “But Simon, I was talking with his voice, and you heard Zoey,” Christian argued. “I keep telling you, you can’t dis the ghost world, man. It’s powerful stuff.”

  Simon shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Where’s Andrew? The food is getting cold.”

  “I think he’s still with Claudia,” Christian replied discreetly.

  “Jesus, that can’t be good.”

  Christian smacked him on the arm and nodded toward Emily.

  “Well, it doesn’t help that she met her old boyfriend and her son’s nearly-dead muse all in one night.”

  Christian smacked Simon even harder.

  “Maybe I should just stay away until I can figure this all out,” Emily mumbled into her coffee. “Maybe it would be safer that way.”

  “Andrew won’t let you out of his sight now,” muttered Simon.

  “I’ll admit it was awkward,” Christian said. “Claudia couldn’t keep her eyes off you, and Neil couldn’t keep his eyes off her. There’s a story there—you’ve got to be blind not to see it. Did you see the look on Andrew’s face when they shook hands good night? I thought he was going to punch Neil.”

  “Wonder if our old boy Neil dipped his wick where he shouldn’t have?” Simon cut in.

  “You are a tactless idiot. You know that?” Margot told him.

  “You ever taken a good look at the two of them? Andrew and Neil? They even speak the same way.”

  “Of course they do, they’re British. They sound like you, only
more intelligent.”

  Simon took a big bite of his toast and rolled his eyes. “Nowha I ment.” He washed it down with a swig of coffee. “Hey, listening to Andrew is my job. I’m merely saying that there are some uncanny similarities between Paulie and Lainey there. Yeah, and what was all that with the Lainey stuff if there wasn’t something wicked in the state of Denmark?”

  “Maybe it was his nickname?” reasoned Margot. “Like people undoubtedly call you ‘clueless moron.’”

  “Ah, but you’re taking me to see the stars tomorrow night, so I must rate, right?”

  Margot didn’t respond, but Emily noticed how her cheeks blushed slightly as she made a point to busy herself with cleaning up the kitchen.

  The crowd eventually dispersed, and Zoey and Margot trudged off to bed, but not before they each gave Emily a heartfelt though exhausted hug. All the while, Andrew had never showed. Emily knew he was done in and probably wanted to visit with his mother in private, but that didn’t lessen the aching loss she felt for him. The house seemed so still, so full of shadows. With his mother hating her and ghosts wanting her dead, she desperately needed some peace of mind.

  It was five a.m., and she lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The room was entirely dark except for the light of her laptop. She was trying to Google The Lady in Red but kept coming up with old songs. Was it a person she was supposed to find? A ghost? She had no idea. And time was running out.

  She threw her head back on her pillow in wretched frustration. She needed Andrew. He would know what to do, where to start. But most of all she just needed him. She felt thin and drawn to the breaking point, and something inside of her told her he did too.

  She hesitated before the closet door wondering if what she was about to do was right. As she crept into the back of the closet, she promised herself she wouldn’t stay long, she would make sure he was sleeping and safe, and then she would return. Tomorrow they could figure out this mess. Tomorrow they would not leave each other’s side.

  By now the passageway was well known territory to her. She closed her eyes and tried to hold the memories of those walls at bay, still so strong and potent in her mind, memories of their bodies, hot and entwined, of his hands—his perfect hands—powerful and wanting.

  With a deep breath, she persevered until she reached the telltale bolts in the floor. Light flickered up from the slats; voices hushed but adamant joined them. Her heart sped up as she approached and squatted down on the floor to peer through the opening into Andrew’s bedroom.

  “I know what I’m doing, Mum, I’ve always known.”

  Andrew was pacing across the room, and what had to be his mother’s suitcase was open on the floor. She sat on the edge of his bed. They looked as though they had been talking for some time, as neither of them had changed out of their clothes.

  “But Andrew, have you truly thought about this? It’s all happened so quickly. You saw this girl in a club, and now? Do you know anything about her?”

  “I know everything I need to know about Emily.”

  “But tonight—what that thing—what they said. Someone wants her dead, and when that man said she would die—”

  “Do you honestly believe all that rubbish?”

  Claudia didn’t answer right away. “I think the question is whether or not you believe it.”

  Andrew’s gait hitched. He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked to the ceiling. Emily drew back into the darkness. “Nothing is going to happen to Emily. I would kill anyone who tried.”

  “But, dear, really, listen to yourself. Always so dramatic, always ready to grab your sword and slay a dragon. Are you sure it’s not the resemblance? The fact that she looks so much like her, is that it?”

  “Mum, it is real. Emily is real. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “Oh, Andrew. I have supported you through everything. When the doctors said she was a figment of your imagination, I trusted you. I’ve never stopped supporting you. But for all the inspiration this muse has given you, she’s traumatized you so. I love you, and I don’t want to see you harmed again.”

  Andrew walked to the other side of the room and slid down against the wall, his hands folded in his sides. “I love you too. Trust me—that is all I ask.”

  “When you were a child, do you remember? When you were in the hospital? I wanted nothing more than for you to get well, and your father thought you would grow out of it, abandon this imaginary friend of yours. But I knew better. I understood. I knew there were things in this life that can’t be explained away, things that transcend the here and now, things that can change your life.” She paused and placed her hands on her knees. “But your obsession with her, it was so strong, so passionate, I have to admit it frightened me. The way you spoke of her like she was next to you, the notes you left in the margins of your compositions to her…Maybe I was a little bit jealous too.” She tried to smile but her worry eroded the effort.

  “Then things seemed to improve. You were thriving and happy, and so alive. I stopped fretting, I thought you had found a place for her, ‘assimilated her into your psyche’ as the doctors used to say.” She glanced up at her son, her voice thick with emotion. “But after that last breakdown on stage…Simon and Christian were so worried. You just collapsed there. They thought you’d had a heart attack. And the doctors were adamant you needed help. They were convinced you would end up killing yourself, and yet you did nothing. Nothing. Simon told me all you would say over and over again was that you had lost her. That she had gone. Then you disappeared on that train. I was frantic, Andrew. You left without a word, and I didn’t hear from you for weeks.”

  Emily’s heart was hammering uncontrollably in her chest at the sight. She had no idea of the intensity of Andrew’s feelings. His muse. A woman that lived in his mind, his heart; that’s who she was. Not Emily. His muse had left him, and it had destroyed him. For the first time she saw the ferocity of that passion, and it was beyond terrifying. Anguished images began to build: a man obsessed, fixated, mad. No, she struggled to remind herself, this was Andrew, her Andrew. Her sweet, playful Andrew.

  “I didn’t know what to think,” Claudia went on. “One night I found your journals, the ones you left at home after university. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I read them. I thought they would help me understand. I didn’t realize how very real she was to you, and the way you described her in such detail…”

  “You read them? All of them?”

  “I was scared you’d become obsessed, Andrew. That this creature could control you so. And when I saw her tonight—the way she looked, the way she spoke—I didn’t know what to do. Are you certain, truly certain you haven’t transferred your fixation onto this poor girl? Taken all your hopes and dreams and convinced yourself that she is the one?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever thought of what this means to her? To Emily? What happens if she doesn’t live up to your expectations? Do you really want to break her heart like that? When you realize that she is not her?”

  The memory of Vandin’s words cut into Emily. He will tell you all the sweet things you want to hear, all that rubbish about love, but it’s not you he is in love with. It’s an ideal he has in his mind, you know that. The more artistic, the worse they become. He will call you his muse and write all the music in the world to you. But it is not you. And in a little while, after he’s done fucking you, he will see your faults, see you for what you really are, and look for that muse of his somewhere else.

  “But she is!” Andrew cried. “Don’t you understand? She is, I know it. In my soul and in my bones. I’m not delusional. I’m not obsessed. I was meant to find her, and I did. God, Mum, can’t you understand what Emily means to me?”

  “She doesn’t have an issue with your past, with the depth of your devotion, or with the fact that you’ve been institutionalized and were placed on medication?”

  Andrew wrapped his arms tighter around his legs and looked away.

  “She doesn’t know, do
es she? Oh, Andrew, if you can’t trust her with that, then how can you even expect her to deal with all the problems you’ll face together? Do you even know how she would react if you told her? What she would do?”

  Andrew said nothing.

  “Don’t you see, darling, you only love what you think she is.”

  “No, I love her. Emily.”

  “But you love your music and performing as well. Can she live with that? What is she going to do when you’re on the road? What kind of life is that for her? What are her dreams? Do you know? Would she sacrifice those to follow you from city to city?”

  He hung his head.

  “You were born to be a musician. It’s who you are. You know that, and there is no stopping it. I’m not saying that this Emily isn’t a lovely girl, but wouldn’t it be best to take some time, step back from this situation and see it for what it really is, and not attach yourself at such a young age? Allow yourself the space and freedom to achieve what you want?”

  Andrew raised his head, slowly, deliberately. He regarded his mother a long time, his eyes flat. When he finally spoke his voice was lethally calm. “Is that what happened with Neil?”

  Claudia’s stilled. “My relationship with Mr. St. John was a long time ago.”

  “So you did have a thing with him.”

  “It ended. I knew what he wanted, what his dreams were. We were very young, and I knew it could never work. I would have held him back.”

  Andrew slid up the wall. Tension crackled from him, making the room thick in accusation.

  “Why would you have held him back? You were brilliant and beautiful. What could possibly be so wrong with you that he would leave you?”

  A silence so profound, so immense, froze the room. Claudia sat lifeless, white as a ghost. Andrew now stood facing her like he was facing a firing squad.

  “Don’t lie to me, Mum. I read Father’s letters. Yeah. Surprised? It would seem we’ve all been reading things we shouldn’t.”

  Claudia seemed to be holding her breath. Waiting. Teetering.

  “When I was clearing out papers over Christmas, I found a stack of love letters he had written to you. I didn’t mean to read them, but I missed him. Never got a chance to say goodbye—I just wanted to see his handwriting, the scrawl of it. Smell the paper. I ran my fingers over it…”