by Brian Corley
She smiled at my small attempt at a joke.
“Nice to meet you, Jonah. My name is Angela.”
I nodded. “Nice to meet you, Angela. How long have you been here?”
“Oh, a long time I suppose,” she began and noticed me taking in the state of her house. “It didn’t always look like this though.” She laughed and began to rock a little in her overstuffed, La-Z-Boy recliner. “I moved here with my Francisco in 1962—he was an engineer at the base.”
She was referring to Camp Mabry, an old military base on the west side of town that had been in Austin since the late 1800s.
Angela continued, “We bought this house and raised a family—two wonderful children, a boy and a girl. Frank, after his father, and Gretchen, after my great-grandmother.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said. “How long did you live here?”
“Oh … quite some time, quite some time. Long enough for Frank and Gretchen to grow up and go off to school, get married and have kids. Francisco and I did everything together. We loved to go on walks, at least two every day. He always said it was important to keep that blood pumping, but I think he just liked to spend time with me.” She winked and continued, “See that tree in the front yard?” She pointed out the window at an old red oak. “Francisco planted that tree when we first moved in here. He said our children and grandchildren would play under it one day, and don’t you know, that’s exactly what they did!”
She laughed as she looked up toward the ceiling. I could tell she was remembering better days.
“I remember a storm in the ’70s that knocked out our power for days—the whole neighborhood. Francisco used it as an opportunity to get to know the neighbors. He went out and bought hot dogs and hot dog buns and came back and just started grilling. People came from blocks around because some of them started running out of food, you see? That’s just the type of man my Francisco was.” Her voice quivered as she trailed off.
“I just couldn’t bear to leave him the morning that I passed. I saw the door with all that beautiful light. Glorious. But I just said to myself—not without Francisco.” She softly tapped her right hand against the arm of her chair to emphasize the last three words.
“You know, I think he knew I was still here. He would get up early—four in the morning—and sit at the breakfast table and talk to me just like I was there.” She looked off to her tiny kitchen. “I miss our little coffees together.” She gathered herself up to continue her story. “The children began to notice that he was forgetting things. Started out as misplacing his keys or wallet.
“I tried to help. He always kept everything on his nightstand, but sometimes he would forget and leave his wallet here or his keys there. I would always move them to where he could find them, of course, but after he started forgetting the grandchildren’s names, Frank or Gretchen—maybe both—decided to move him to a home where someone could look after him.
“I woke up one night, and he was gone, and I knew the children must have taken him away earlier. I didn’t know how to find him or what to do. I worried that maybe he couldn’t find me. Then I thought that maybe he would come back here, to this place one day. Before too long, Frank and Gretchen’s husband came with some of their boys and moved everything out of the house.
“Frank stood at that door right there and said goodbye to me one last time, and I to him. They sold the house to a lovely couple who just moved to town. After a while, they had a baby and decided to sell the house.
“So on and so forth … I saw people come and go. Families, couples, students from time to time.” She laughed. “Those students could get so rowdy. You know, they had such a good time, but they sure were hard on the house.”
She darkened.
“There was one family that lived here—a young couple—that had a little baby. That man drank too much. Every night he drank. He would drink himself into a sorry state—he was a mean little cuss. He would get to drinking, then start hollerin’ at his wife. One night it got real bad, and I thought he was going to hurt her, or that little baby.
“I just knew I had to do something. Just as I thought he was going to go too far, I cut the lights out on the house. I’m not sure how I knew to do it—I just did it. One minute he was hollerin’ up a storm; the next, he got real quiet. He went outside to check that old breaker box and brought the lights back up. He got to drinkin’ some more and started hollerin’ at her again. This time he threatened her, and I cut the lights off again.
“I scared him then. He stopped yelling and ran outside again. Thankfully that gave her enough time to grab the baby and get out. She went over to our neighbors, the Crenshaws, and they took that girl and her baby in for the night. Those two split over it, and he was out of here before he could do any more damage. I’m proud of that.”
I took note of what she did with the lights and filed that away for later.
“After a while, someone bought the house and just started renting the place out. At first, a few nice families came through. I remember one young couple stayed here for a while—the Diaz family. I liked them a lot. Well, one night, the Diazes were out for one of their date nights, and a couple of hoodlums broke in through that back door there in the kitchen. Well, I just thought to myself that I had to do something, so I did. I turned on the TV, and wouldn’t you know it … the police were on a show, and those boys lit up out of this house just as fast as they could go—more scared than a cat at a dog pound, I tell you what.” She looked at me, laughing, her face fading to a grin.
“There’ve been others that obviously haven’t taken care of the place, and now the four men that live here couldn’t care less. I’m so tired, Jonah. I’m so tired of being here. I miss my Francisco.”
I took her hand.
“What if you could use my door?”
She looked at me, her hands over her mouth.
“Oh now, Jonah, that’s your door. I couldn’t do that.”
“Sure you could, or we can go together.”
She sat back, thought for a second, and said, “Well yes, Jonah. I think I will take you up on that. I believe I am ready to go.”
Immediately a bright light filled the room as a door
appeared in front of us. Her door. There was no question;
there was just something about it that let us both know it was for her.
She smiled, and her eyes brightened as she took on the appearance of a much younger woman in her prime: dark hair in a wave of curls, and a light-blue wool dress with oversized buttons that was the height of fashion somewhere around the mid-60s. She stood up, straightened her jacket over her skirt, and turned to me.
“I best be going on to see my Francisco,” she said, looking toward the door like a bride about to enter a sanctuary. “I think it’s time we had one of our walks.”
Off she went, through the door and gone. The light in the room dimmed.
My chest felt like it was in a vice. I wasn’t ever one to cry—hadn’t in years—but in that moment, I wished that
I could.
Chapter 11
I got to my feet again and slowly made my way through the front door of the house, noticing that I was walking now instead of floating along. I got the feeling I could float if I wanted to, but I just wanted to feel the steps for now. Outside, the man from before was leaning against an old red oak in the front yard.
“Father Chandler told me about you—asked me to help you,” he said.
“What?” I replied.
The man stepped out from underneath the tree to reveal himself. I would say he was anywhere from his mid-forties to early fifties, a guy that looked older, but not old if that makes sense. He was tall, in shape, and was dressed in an understated fashion in a plaid flannel shirt, untucked and over worn jeans—not like someone trying to dress young, just cool.
I could tell there was something different about him. He was
n’t a person, but I got the feeling he wasn’t a ghost either. Whatever he was, I felt like I could trust him, like I should listen to what he had to say. He had an air of effortless authority around him.
“I said Father Chandler told me about you,” he answered. “Well, kind of—he was talking to my boss’s boss’s boss, but I was in the room, and here we are.”
I put it together.
“Father Chandler said he’d pray for me.”
He nodded.
“So now you’re here.”
He nodded.
“But I still died.”
He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment and nodded again. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wish I could have been here earlier.” He plucked some leaves off a low-hanging limb and walked toward me. “What you did in there is important, you know. You made a difference.”
“Was that a test?”
“No, actually, I wanted to show you something else. What you did, though … I didn’t expect that.”
“What did I do exactly?”
“You gave her hope, Jonah. You gave her hope, and she wanted to move on from where she was and on to the next place.”
“What would have happened if I hadn’t gone in? If no one went in?”
He shook his head. “Nothing good. Maybe she’d have turned bitter, mean. Maybe she’d have given up, withered away, spent the next few hundred years or so floating around that old lot. We don’t have to guess now because you helped her. That counts, Jonah. That means something.”
“Where does the door go?” I said, finally asking the real questions.
“Why would I know?”
“I get the feeling you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I do know. It goes to where it’s supposed to go. Some say Sheol or Hades—a place of rest. Some, like your friend Zoe, might say they go on to Yin Jian. Some say Heaven; some say Hell. You get where I’m going with this.” He nodded like I actually got where he was going with this.
“No, I don’t. That’s why I was asking where it went.”
“Only one way to find out. That look on your face tells me that you’re not quite ready to discover that, though.”
I looked down at the ground and back up to him. “Nope, not yet, I guess. So what is it that you wanted to show me anyway?”
“Christmas, Mr. Scrooge, I’ve come to show you Christmas.”
Oh cool, he was going to take me through what life would be—
“Eh, I’m just kidding. I wanted to show you this kid that was showing off for his girlfriend and was about to do something stupid. He’s gone now, but it was funny. Come on, let’s get you home before the sun comes up. If you’re caught outside when it does, it’s over.”
I panicked. “Really?”
“No.” He leaned over, laughing, and straightened back up, waving me off. “No, man, come on. I’m sorry. I’m just messing with you. Seriously though, you may want to wake up in familiar surroundings tomorrow.”
We got to the house, headed up the walkway, and slipped through the front door.
Willard’s chair sat empty. Uh oh.
Suddenly he rushed through a wall in the living room but stopped in his tracks when he saw us. He obviously didn’t expect me to bring company.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“This is … uh … my friend.” I looked at the guy next to me. “I don’t know your name.”
“Call me Seph,” he replied, hands in his pockets while looking Willard straight in the eye.
“What are you?” Willard asked.
So he got that impression too, interesting.
“I’m an angel,” Seph replied, as normal as you or I would say, “I’m a plumber” or “a student.” Hmm. Makes sense. I guess I kind of put that together for myself already.
“No,” Willard said. “No, there are no angels—”
“Behold,” Seph thundered as a blinding light illuminated the room.
I fell to the floor and covered my eyes. I couldn’t move. I’d never felt anything like it. It was as though I was pinned by some unseen force. I was terrified.
The light faded and a transformed Seph stood in our living room, rigged out in all sorts of armor. Sword drawn and shield at his side, he beamed down at Willard, who was on the floor too, shielding his eyes.
As the light began to fade, the downward force on both of us relented, and Willard squirmed his way to the kitchen and out the side door into the night. I sat up to one knee, blinking. “Blinking,” I guess. I didn’t need to blink anymore, but I was shaking off the effects of what I just witnessed.
Seph laughed to himself. When I looked back to him, he was wearing the same clothes as before. He walked over to Willard’s chair and flopped down into it.
“Sorry. I didn’t have a lot of time to argue and didn’t feel like trying to convince him with words. He wouldn’t have believed me otherwise.”
“You scared him. You didn’t have to do that. He had a tough life, he’s been through a lot.”
“You’re right,” Seph reflected, looking up at the ceiling. “He’s kind of a dick though. Anyway, do you want to check out your funeral?”
Did I? Yeah, kinda.
“Where’s it going to be? Is it here in town? Will I need to travel? If so, how am I supposed to travel? Most funerals I’ve been to are during the day. How can I go if it is?” I asked.
Seph held out both hands to calm me down.
“OK, OK, good questions. First, it’s during the day, but I’m giving you a little hall pass. I kind of run things for the area and have some leeway. Second, it’s here in town over at St. Raphael’s. Father Chandler stepped in when he heard what happened to you. He feels bad, even though he gave you good advice.” His hand was resting on one of the arms of the chair, but he lifted a finger to point at me. “You should have listened to him. Third, yes, we’ll need to travel downtown.”
“That’s a long walk.”
“It is a long walk, but lucky for you, we’re not walking. Did you notice earlier how you floated toward me at one point, and then we walked back to this house at another?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s because you thought you could do it.”
“OK. So if I think I can fly there really fast, I can?”
He smiled. “Yep.”
“OK then, could I just think myself there?”
He laughed and clapped. “Yes!”
“So why didn’t Angela just blink herself over to the nursing home with Francisco?”
Seph shook his head. “Because she didn’t think to do it. It may not seem like much, but I’m giving you a lot of information here. You instinctively knew to grab that sword and that bat last night and the night before last. That was good. You figured it out on your own. Others do that, or something like it, but most have help. They learn from other ghosts. Very few figure it out on their own.”
Ah, I see. So I’m special. I knew I would be good at this.
“No.” He shook his head, stretched his arm out, and shook his finger. “No. You’re not special.”
Could he read my thoughts? I didn’t say that out loud.
“You’re not the chosen one. There aren’t going to be letters from some wizard school flying through the mail slot. You just figured some things out faster than most. I’m giving you pointers because you really shouldn’t have died the way you did. I’ve only seen a handful go like that, and all of them moved on. You stayed behind and fought the guy who took you out. That’s ballsy.”
“I don’t know, Seph. Sounds like you’re saying I’m special.”
He rolled his eyes and muttered, “This is what happens when everyone gets a trophy.” Seph stood up and straightened his clothes. “I’ll be by tomorrow to wake you up for the funeral—big day for you.” Seph walked toward the door and disappeared, and I went to my couch to
watch cartoons until the sun came up. I didn’t even have a mail slot.
“Willard?” I asked in a loud voice.
No response. I was pretty sure he was gone. Poor guy.
Chapter 12
I faded into my room, which was flooded with light. Daylight seemed so much brighter now that I was nocturnal; it was almost overwhelming. Seph was leaning on my doorframe in a perfectly tailored dark suit.
“Up and at ’em, I see. Good,” he said. “Are you going to wear that?”
I realized I was wearing what my mind instinctively defaulted to: a navy-blue T-shirt and jeans. No one was going to see me, so why should I care? Still, it was my funeral, and you only get one of those—probably. I thought about a look that I associated with high fashion and success: a slim-fit navy-blue suit with a bright-white button-down underneath. No tie, but a crisp collar. I checked the mirror, but couldn’t see myself.
“Looks great,” Seph said. “I think you’re getting the hang of this.”
I’m special, I thought. He’s impressed. I’m good at this.
“You’re not special,” he grumbled and looked off in a half eye roll. “Let’s go. They’ve started.”
Blink. Just like that, he was gone. And just like that, I was back with him at St. Raphael’s.
“Nice turnout,” Seph said while he pulled a face and gave me the OK sign.
I floated up to get a better view, and he was right; it was a nice turnout. People I hadn’t seen in years. Teachers from high school, elementary school, and a couple of professors from college. The group of guys I hung around with from high school. We’d lost touch, but they’d rallied to come pay their respects. I appreciated that.
Oh … Aunt Mindy, ugh, pass.
Nic was there, by herself, looking at her phone in the back. More friends, acquaintances. Ah, there’s Valerie. We dated in high school, kind of. Blah blah blah, old church friends, people from work—Debra.
Debra was crying and telling the person next to her she told me to get out of that house. Sorry, Debra.
Hank was there with my two bosses, blah blah blah—was that? Yes. Yes! Laura from marketing. Laura from marketing was there!
