She Talks To Ghosts
Page 2
practically glued to each other, Gina explained her job to Colin.
He asked, “So, you like spirits more than you like people?”
“Yes, I see them clearer.”
“What do you think of me?”
“Oh, your spirit is quite lovely, very animated indeed. That’s why I came. I think your spirit needs help with something.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, but I think you’re quite beautiful as well—your spirit that is.” She could see it piping up and down, an ectoplasmic cloud hovering close to his body.
“So it’s my spirit you’re admiring, not me?”
“It is you. Wouldn’t you rather be complimented for your soul than for your outward appearance?”
“I guess,” he sighed.
“The problem with most humans is they don’t always listen to their souls. They’re so trapped in their mind and bodies. They don’t know who they are and where they should be until the body dies. Oh, you’re not dying, are you?”
“Who me? Not that I know of. Why? Do I look like I’m dying? Can you tell the future?”
“No, it’s just that your soul can reach so far past your body. I have never seen that before. Well, I’ve seen a lot of weird things. No one soul is like any other, but I haven’t seen that. It’s fascinating.”
“Sometimes I visit my friends through their dreams.”
“And dreams are the great mover of the soul through the night… I forgot who said that.”
Colin sparkled for a moment beneath his spirit then stopped and smiled at her. “Hey, can I show you something?” He grinned and held out his hands. They were strong, handsome hands that radiated warmth and energy. She put her delicate fingers in his and felt him pull her away, as the ghosts sometimes did when they wanted to share their stories.
He took her to a blues club where the soulful cries of a saxophone moaned above a haunting bass. The tempo picked up, a Dixieland harmony that couldn’t be imitated anywhere outside of Louisiana, for nowhere else had this exotic mix of French, Caribbean, and Southern sounds.
The ghosts poured out of the club, drawn to the musical vibrations, and she watched as Colin’s soul soured up with them. These ghosts were in a different mood than the ones in the cemetery. They didn’t like the quiet, sacred areas of cemeteries. They were drawn to the loud and profane. They moved and ebbed. Lifting her up to dance, the spirits swayed to the lyrics of the song as the man with the harmonica sang:
I was born in the bayou
The bayou owns my skin
My heart is in the bayou
No one else is gettin’ in
Though she says she loves me
She’ll never understand
My soul is in the swamplands…
The spirits in the room cheered to the vibrations of the song. They never wanted to leave or move on. Many were attached to the club, and their essence was made of the same vibrations the instruments gave off. It was an overwhelming feeling, the way the spirits seemed to melt with the music. The two complemented each other. Even the humans could feel the mix of energy, although they didn’t know what it was.
“This is one of the oldest blues clubs in the French Quarter. It’s been around since the 1940s,” Colin said. “It has a rich history. They say the original owner haunts this place to this very day. He can’t get away from the music. But beware, if he hears something he doesn’t like, he’ll curse the musicians with bad luck. You have to know you’re good to play here.”
Before she knew it Gina found herself dancing with Colin, his spirit looking more content than she had ever seen. She spoke to it as their bodies danced close, not moving to the music as much as the music moved them. She spoke without speaking and it responded. She learned that he they moved to New Orleans a year ago with another woman and once they settled in and got a good job, she left him. His girlfriend said there was something missing and he never learned what it was, but Gina couldn’t help noticing the missing piece in his soul. Their spirits communicated, unbeknownst to Colin’s simple mind. His spirit learned of her past heartaches, for spirits only shared the deepest of secrets and never wasted time with small talk.
They dared to dance for hours until another band came to play and a light suddenly fell from the ceiling, causing a commotion and almost killing the drummer, who seemed to have no sense of rhythm. “Looks like the spirits don’t like this band,” Colin chuckled and she nodded, for she couldn’t help but notice their outrage and boredom for something barely short of mediocre.
They found themselves on Bourbon Street as college students danced drunk, beers in hand, and women flashed men for beads. Saturday night meant there was always something to celebrate, a reason to drink on the streets. Gina didn’t remember what the occasion was. Maybe it was just the crawfish festival. It didn’t matter.
A scruffy man with graying stubble on his face approached them. Giant beads were wrapped around his neck and fell to his knees. “How’d you like one of these?” He leered as he fiddled with a plastic, bright-purple globule. He held a camera in his other hand, lifting his eyebrows up and down. They walked away. “I’ll give you three of them,” the man cried as they turned their backs. “I’ll give you all of them!”
“That’s quite an offer,” Colin remarked. Gina merely scoffed and kept walking. “I bet you get that a lot.”
“Not really. I don’t come to this area much.”
“I used to come here all the time.”
“Yes, when you were with your girlfriend.”
“Huh? Yeah, did I mention her to you?”
He obviously didn’t realize his spirit had already told her about his ex-girlfriend, and it seemed a chore to take the time to repeat it all. “It’s obvious. Why come out here alone, right?”
“Yeah, what about you? No special man in your life?”
“No, no man, not ever.”
“You’ve never been with a man? You’ve never been in love?”
“I’ve been in love. He was a ghost.”
Colin snickered and his spirit shook, for it knew she was telling the truth.
“He was the love of my life,” she mumbled, but it didn’t seem as painful to say this time, not with Colin’s radiant spirit standing at attention. “He didn’t like that we’re from different dimensions.”
“Oh, how long did it last?”
“I can’t say, enough for me to get sucked into his world for a while. I would have done anything for him, well, except—”
“Except what?”
“He wanted me to die… so we could really be together in one dimension. I’m not ready for that. I had to let him go.”
Gina found it amusing to watch Colin gawk at her in disbelief while his spirit bobbed up and down with interest. Such a strange pair they made. She would never understand humans and why they found it so hard to listen to their inner voices. He looked up at her with scrutiny, as if he didn’t know whether or not to believe her. Well, of course he believed her. They already had this conversation. Ah, the mind always has a hard time catching up with the soul, she thought to herself. If only people let their souls do all the thinking, allowing their minds to just follow along. Perhaps this was why she preferred sprits. They were much more straightforward.
As the night aged, Gina walked Colin to his apartment, a bit exhausted after making such a concerted effort to speak aloud. Why was he so at odds with his soul? They chuckled awkwardly as they stood on his doorstep, his spirit dancing and calling to her, Don’t leave. Help us. We need you! As his soul pleaded with her, she could sense his mind growing colder and more distant. Abruptly he held out his hand and thanked her for the company. She took it and smiled.
“Good night,” she said sympathetically and watched him walk away shaking his head in confusion.
That night, as Gina lay in bed, Colin’s spirit came to her, revealing its full, radiant form. She realized how large the hole within it was. The part that meant home and love was so broken off that it had forgotten what it was like to
feel united with another. Instead, loneliness was ever present in its depths. Still, the rest of it danced, wild and free in its highs and lows. Help me! it pleaded.
With what? Gina asked without saying a word, more like searching.
I need to find my true love.
Immediately Gina knew his true love wasn’t the girl who left him after he moved to the Big Easy. Sometimes it was better for spirits to let go of love and break the stagnant cycles of the past, but this was different. This spirit felt larger than the others, too large to be just Colin’s, and it wasn’t complete. It left a part of itself somewhere.
She realized the only way she could help this magnificent soul would be to go into its world and see what it was too incomplete to understand. She relaxed her body, allowing it to sink deeper and deeper into the bed as her spirit floated out to be with Colin’s ghost. From her bedroom they flew out over the intoxicating city of New Orleans and traveled to the banks of the Mississippi River.
The river, once a hub for tourists and admirers, had lost its charm of late. Though Gina was no native of the city, she had heard from others that vacationers no longer visited the river and the businesses surrounding it were slowly running dry. For some reason Colin’s spirit seemed at home here, and as they floated over its vast waters, she sensed a very old soul who had seen wars, economic changes, upheavals, and much more.
Like all souls who lived through adversity, it longed for peace and something simple and pure. By the banks of the river was a glimmer of such a being—a young