A Ghost's Story. Jenna Lynn Bretz
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are you so cold?” he asks as he reaches out to touch me.
“Who are you talking to David?”
Amber comes around the corner.
“To the lady, momma.”
“What lady, David?”
“The cold lady. She says she’s my nanna.”
The color leaves Amber’s face. She is as white as a sheet. Her eyes widen as she looks around the room. The couple ’round the corner, entering the living room. They are chattering and laughing. Amber quickly picks David up and turns to them.
“So what do you think?”
“We love it! It’s just beautiful,” the woman exclaims.
“My mom and dad did all the work themselves. My mother really had an eye for this sort of thing.”
“She did a great job. Must have been a real labor of love,” says the woman.
“Oh, she really loved this house. My best memories are here in this house.”
“Why did they move?” asks the man.
“My mother passed away.”
“I’m so sorry,” says the man.
“Oh no. It’s okay, it was a long time ago.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but where is your dad?” asks the woman.
I move in closer so I can hear.
“He lives in an apartment in the city. He stayed here for a while after we lost mom. My sister and I both live in LA, so he moved there to be closer to us. We finally convinced him that it wasn’t good for him to be all the way out here alone. It’s been sitting empty now for almost fifteen years. It needs a family. I hate to see it waste away.”
“Well, we are very interested. We will definitely be getting back to you,” says the man.
“For sure, we have looked at a lot of places. But none of them speak to me like this place,” says the woman.
“Well, great. I will be waiting to hear from you.”
Amber shows the couple to the door, carrying David on her hip. They say their goodbyes. The couple leaves.
“David, tell momma about the cold lady. Where is she?”
I quickly move to the hallway. David looks around the room. “She must have left.”
“What did she look like?”
“She’s pretty. She looks like you, Momma.”
Amber scans the room again. She gathers David’s toys, takes him by the hand, and leads him to the front door. I wave goodbye to David; he waves back.
Fifteen years…
“Wow!”
When you’re dead, you have no concept of time. I knew it had been awhile since the girls were here packing up everything but fifteen years. I guess that would make me somewhere around sixty. If I were alive.
“You would be approaching seventy, Stanley. I wonder if you ever retired. I bet you didn’t. I bet you are still working at the hospital. I’m glad you moved closer to the girls. I know you must be nuts about that little boy. I’m so glad I got to see him.”
I speak to Stanley as if he is here with me. I think of him, and he is…
* * * * *
What could one say? I have asked all the questions. I have yelled and screamed, made demands. No one hears; no one answers. I am left with just me. I grow bored with my thoughts. Sometimes I find it easier not to think. I float aimlessly, hoping to get lost in a memory. To feel alive again as I relive it. Time doesn’t exist here. It is so odd. I feel like a child waiting for Christmas morning, anticipating an event that will never come. I wait in anticipation for nothing.
I feel like an animal in a cage, pacing back and forth but never getting anywhere.
This house is my reality. I roam through it, revisiting every memory it holds. It keeps me safe from the darkness that pursues me.
If only I could see Stanley again. I would find a way to make him hear me.
God help me!
How did this happen? I went to sleep one night and woke up to this ongoing nightmare. I wanted to stay with Stanley. I didn’t know I was dead. Just thinking these thoughts, I feel as though I am fading away. I hold on to my consciousness. What would happen if I just let it go? I feel myself floating away. A peaceful warmth wraps itself around me. I close my eyes and feel myself give in to this embrace.
A door slams. I am descending, falling! I grasp frantically at the air around me. I open my eyes, and I am back in our bedroom.
The front door? That was the front door!
A young woman with blonde hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. A young man follows behind her, struggling with a large box. I circle around them to get a better look. This is the couple that Amber brought here.
“Look at this place, Peter! It’s just beautiful. Look at all this potential.” She squeals delightfully as she spins in circles around the room. “We can take out this wall and open up this room.” She quickly heads off to the kitchen. “Peter! It’s even bigger than what I remember. This will definitely turn out to be one hell of a kitchen for you, my sexy chef man. Come in here and look at this!”
“Be right there, babe, just let me get the rest of these boxes off the porch.”
I look right into his face. The sprinkle of freckles on his nose matched the color of his hair. He had green eyes, greenest eyes I had ever seen. He favors Liam, how strange. I hadn’t thought about Liam until now. Really not much to think about.
“Damn! Babe, find a thermostat. We need to get the heat going.”
I watch the vapor rise from his breath as he speaks into the cold air surrounding him.
“Okay, babe,” she says, drawing my attention back to her. There she is standing in my kitchen with a big black marker in hand, sketching on my walls and drawing big black Xs on my cabinet doors!
I had to do something! I had to make her stop!
All the rage I was feeling flowed out of me toward her, then suddenly deflected into the pantry door. It slammed with such force that the walls shuttered! She screamed, then nervously turned to search the room around her. Her dark blue eyes were wide with fear. Her face drained of all its color as she stood there shaking.
“What the fuck, Jen? What was that?” he says as he runs quickly into the kitchen.
“That door just slammed on its own, Peter!” she stammered, still shaking.
“What? What do you mean, Jen?”
“I mean that fucking door just slammed on its own, Peter. That’s what I fucking mean!”
“Jeeze, you scared the shit out of me. I thought you fell or something.”
“Peter! Did you hear what I just said? That door slammed by itself! I am really freaked out right now.”
“Jen, it’s an old house. It was probably just caught by a draft or something.”
“From where, Peter? Where would a draft that strong come from?”
“Well, I did have the front door open, and it is windy outside.”
“I didn’t feel any wind, Peter.”
“Come on, babe. I think you’re just overreacting,” he said as he put his arms around her. “This really is a great kitchen. I am going to make some amazing food in here! Wow, you’re trembling, baby,” he said as reached out to her, rubbing both of her arms vigorously, as if to try and warm