She Talks To Ghosts

by Lacey Reah

girl whose father had worked as a longshoreman. He’d let her run free by the banks since her mother died in 1943, when she was only three years old, and she had no one to take care of her during the summers. She would talk to the river as if it were her imaginary friend and sing “Ol’ Man River” in a forced, low tone. In times of loneliness, she would cry by the river and swear that only it knew what was in her heart. Over time Colin’s spirit watched her grow up and become a laborer herself. She raised a family of her own, gave birth to two children and watched as they grew to adulthood, but she never lost her connection with the river, for it supported her and gave her strength through her darkest days. So much had changed since then; the days of the longshoremen were long gone.

  As Colin’s spirit pined away for this beautiful lady, wishing he could be even closer to her, a man was visiting the waterfront. He was accosted by muggers, and when he refused to give them his wallet, they stabbed him. There was no reason why that man should have lived, but he did. That man was Colin. He woke up with amnesia because his former spirit had left him and a new spirit entered to be with the woman he had loved. It wasn’t easy living in a human body. The movements were much more limited and he had to leave it often just to have space to move, but Ol’ Man River was in love and none of the little things mattered.

  Ol’ Man River, Gina thought. You’re Ol’ Man River! You’re the spirit of the Mississippi!

  Ol’ Man River wooed his woman. By now she was seventy-five years old and Colin was just a young man, but deep down inside she knew his spirit, the one she devoted herself too since she was a lost little girl, running away from the pain of her youth. They lived a great six years together as a mortal couple, until death took her to another dimension while Ol’ Man River remained, stuck in Colin’s body.

  It was no coincidence that Colin’s sister happened to be in New Orleans when she recognized him, her long-lost brother who had disappeared so many years ago. She brought him back to California, back to their family and friends, but they could never get him to remember who he was. They did convince him that his home was Los Angeles, though his heart yearned for the south. He managed to move on despite the guilt of never remembering who he was supposed to be. He found a new love, a young and vibrant woman, and they moved to the Big Easy together. But she knew something wasn’t right, that the Colin everyone said he was and the Colin he wanted to believe was there no longer existed. At first she was charmed by this mystery and thought it an exciting quest, one of discovery, but in the end it just didn’t work out.

  But why can’t you just return to the Mississippi? Gina wondered, and that’s when her soul flew to the moon—the cold, noble moon, mother of all rivers. Her pride wounded, her heart broken like a spurned lover, the moon refused to take him back. This was why the river stopped flowing the way it once had, why commerce and transportation seemed to stop altogether. The spirit of the river, a presence that depended greatly on its partnership with the moon to help its waves move in time, was estranged from its home.

  Gina begged the moon for answers, but what could a mere mortal do? She also searched for Vera, the woman Ol’ Man River loved and watched grow old by his banks, and saw that she was trapped somewhere in the space where the moon would otherwise touch the river. The moon was using her mortal soul as a trite replacement for Ol’ Man River’s ethereal one. Though he tried to reach his love, the moon would not allow it, for she loved him too and felt horribly betrayed by him. Deep down inside Gina was aware of the river’s devotion to the moon, but he was frightened by her wrath and the two were far from forgiving.

  The next evening Gina visited her favorite cemetery hangout and found Ol’ Man River already waiting for her. Colin was there too, sitting on a grave stone with his lanky knees in the air. It was a festive occasion, his spirit feeling so lively and buoyant, knowing who he finally was. The other spirits celebrated this reunion with the Mississippi.

  Ol’ Man River, moaned a very old ghost, why, I drifted down your waters in a rough flat boat to come to New Orleans and I never went back. Those were the days.

  Ol’ Man River, called another, I was a boatman on your waters. I met my wife on one of them steam boats. Such a lovely view.

  Meanwhile, Colin sat looking utterly content in the dark grave site. He smiled at Gina when he saw her. “I’m really starting to like it here,” he said. “The energy just feels right.”

  She skirted towards him and leaned against the gravestone.

  “You know why I came here?” he reflected. “I know something happened here all the years I was gone from my family. I think it means a lot to me, because I can’t remember my family at home and I don’t care to. Everything here in the Big Easy seems so familiar. I keep searching for her. I don’t know who she is, but she’s somewhere.”

  “Who are you looking for?” Gina asked. Oh why did she even bother communicating with the body?

  “I was in love with someone while I was here, and I know that if I find her, I’ll remember who I am, who I’m supposed to be.”

  “What if I told you I know who she is but that she’s passed on?”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you? You are an expert on the dead.”

  Gina knew Colin must be sad to hear the news, but his spirit was doing summersaults and entertaining the other ghosts. We have to find a way to get to Vera, Ol’ Man River seemed to call to her. He was having a good time, but he knew he wasn’t home.

  Home? demanded one of the senior spirits. A river’s home is with the moon, his partner for life. Home with a mortal is just a fleeting dot compared to the life of a great river.

  Ol’ Man River shuddered at this ghost’s audacity. The mere mention of the moon made him rage. Then Colin snapped, “Gina, you better not be joking about her being dead. What a thing to say!”

  Great, just when she thought she had caught him in a good mood. Oh, why did she bother talking in the first place?

  The ghost who challenged the river spirit was a voodoo priest when he was alive, learned in the ways of energy and emotion. A river spirit is married to the moon, he preached. They are magnetically linked. She moves his waves and tides. She ignites his motivation and fuels a passion he may not know he has.

  But she won’t speak to him, Gina replied without speaking.

  Only because she knows he doesn’t want her. You can’t break the pride of the moon or a great river. One of them has to apologize first.

  Ol’ Man River had withdrawn back into Colin—content, it seemed, with being human for a while.

  “Hey,” Gina said aloud, “it’s a beautiful night. Let’s walk around a bit.” Colin looked up at her, revealing the anguish in his eyes. Poor thing, she thought.

  Still the voodoo spirit called to her, insisting on giving her his two cents.

  Ol’ Man River has seen all the beauty and all the ugly. He’s seen the beautiful wildlife living in harmony with nature, the estuaries, the bayou, and the great lakes at its mouth—all that is beautiful. Mankind, however, we’re the ugly. He’s seen homes destroyed by floods and hurricanes. He’s seen people butcher each other over territory and slaves treated in ways I’m too much of a gentleman to mention. On top of that, the oil spills killed so much, as did our own means of pollutin’. We hurt him—maybe not you and me personally, but mankind hasn’t been kind to the Mississippi, considering all he’s done for us.

  He wanted to love us and Vera. His Vera worshipped him like an idol. She loved him, sacrificed flowers and fruits and works of art to him. A spirit is always drawn to that kind of devotion. He needed her. He needed to find a reason to love us, you see. But the moon. The voodoo spirit continued in a whisper, and Gina could feel his presence clamping onto her. The moon is where he belongs.

  The great voodoo spirit followed the couple down to the waterfront. “Funny thing about you,” said Colin, “you’re so quiet, but that’s okay. I feel like I don’t have to say much for you to understand.”

  In voodoo, we pray to the elements to help us get wha
t we want, but when dealing with the elements themselves, you must be very careful. You have to give more of yourself than you ever knew was there. Remember, the moon will pay him no mind until she thinks he really cares about her. They have to forgive each other.

  Gina sat Colin down on a bench by a lamp overlooking the great river. “What do you think of the Mississippi?” she asked.

  “It’s… It seems empty, but familiar.”

  “Vera loved it here.”

  “Vera? That name does sound familiar.”

  “She was the one you loved while you lived here, the one you’re trying to remember. She loved the river. It was her refuge whenever life got too tough.”

  “Really? Where is she now?”

  “I need to talk to your spirit to help me figure that out.”

  “Um… okay.” Colin cooperated hesitantly.

  Without talking, Gina called for the river spirit to emerge. He seemed to peep out of Colin’s body for a moment, like a child checking the terrain during a hide-and-seek game. It bobbed back inside only to partially emerge, glancing shyly at the river. Why do you deny yourself? Gina asked.

  He’s hurt, the Voodoo spirit whispered, and in a flash Gina saw wars between tribes, countries, and business men. She saw slaves being shipped in, whipped, raped, and mishandled—the oil spill, the toxic waste, the