by Brian Corley
I introduced myself and told her what I did—and I mean everything: what I did in life, what I do now, where I grew up, my favorite foods—everything. She just drew it out of me with polite nods and smiles.
“That’s nice, dear. You sound like a good boy,” she responded after what seemed like half an hour of me talking without a break, but was probably only twenty minutes or so.
She went on to tell me about how she met her husband, Harry, how they bought the house together, how he died, and how she carried on afterward.
I asked her why she was still there after all those years, and why she wouldn’t move on.
“Oh, I was just scared at first,” she said. “That big white light was everywhere, and all I had to do was let it take me. Even though I felt like everything would be OK on the other side of it, I didn’t know what to do.
“Then I felt like I didn’t deserve it—as if it were too easy. Maybe I didn’t trust it. I thought about going up to it every night but always managed to talk myself out of it. You don’t know what’s through there, I would think, or, yes, you do know what’s through there—and you’re just not ready for it. Before too long, the door stopped showing up.”
She stopped her needlepoint but continued to rock back and forth. “That’s OK though. Pretty soon, the Tompkins moved in, and I just loved them. I love sitting with them at dinner. They have such good stories and love each other so much. Their kids and grandkids still come by from time to time, and they’re such a mess. Especially that little rascal Charlie. They have this grandbaby that comes over here, and he just gets into everything.”
She looked up and laughed, then turned her gaze back to her needlepoint with a sad look on her face.
“I miss being around a family like that—I miss my family. Last time I saw any of them was when my niece and her kids came to set up an estate sale.”
She looked away from us and gathered herself. “So now, Jonah, you go around, and you can just make these doors appear again for people? They can just move on after all those years?”
“Actually, Ms. Pirkle,” I replied, “I’m not sure it’s me. I think I’m just reminding them that they have somewhere else they can go—they can see those that they’ve been missing or just rest.”
She nodded, rocking back and forth. “So you can help me move on to see Harry, my old friends, my family again?”
“If you want to. Do you think you’re ready?”
She looked to George and Ramona. George’s face was set with a soft smile, his eyebrows knit together as he fought back tears. Ramona knelt by her side, took her hand in both of hers, and nodded yes.
Ms. Pirkle set her needlepoint aside, her work fading away as she let go, and slowly stood up from her chair. Her door appeared across the room, illuminating the space with a light so bright it was hard to endure.
“I suppose I’ve been here long enough,” she said as she started a slow shuffle toward the door, her back bent slightly. “I’m sure the Tompkins will be fine without me, although they may miss some of my help with that front yard.” She winked at us and stood a little taller as she walked back to hug Ramona and then George.
“I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” she said, looking each of them in the eye, then turned to me. “Thank you too, young man.” She patted me on both sides of my face.
Then she turned to walk toward the door, with more purpose in each step, taking on the visage of a young woman in her twenties by the time she reached it and walked through. The light in the room dimmed as the door faded away, leaving the three of us in awe as we floated quietly in the living room.
George managed to speak. “Far out. That was something else, man. Listen, Jonah, do you think we could do something like that? Help more people like her, I mean.”
“Of course, that’s what I wanted to show you,” I said.
“I want to try,” Ramona added after a long silence. “I want to do this again. Would you help us learn?”
“You bet,” I said. “I’ll help if I can.”
We exited the house and started back toward George and Ramona’s. A couple in matching reflective athletic clothing ran by us as we made our way down the path. It was late, but that meant that it was probably a more comfortable temperature for running than when the sun was shining full-blast in the afternoon. We watched them jog by, and I decided to pick a thread back up from earlier.
“What would it take for you to get along with Judy and Glenn, or at least allow them to live their life in peace?”
“It would help if they would stop supporting corrupt politicians,” George replied, starting to get worked up.
“George,” Ramona calmed him, “that’s not our fight anymore. We can help in other ways now.” She stroked his back as we floated along.
“Still wish we had our old house though,” he mumbled while he pulled her in close for a side hug.
“What if I could help with that?” I thought out loud.
“You think you can get us our old house back?” George asked, stopping on the sidewalk.
“Yeah, kinda—I think so,” I replied, remembering DeeDee and Jeremy. “Let’s get you two back home, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 22
As luck would have it, we got back in time to see Zoe and the Psy-kicks filing out of the house. I said my goodbyes to George and Ramona and caught up with the group back in the van. Zoe turned on the van with Max in the passenger seat while the Psy-kicks filed in the back of the van, looking a little disgruntled.
“Hey everybody,” I crackled through the speakers. “Why does everyone look like they just dropped their puppy off at the vet?”
Max gave Zoe a punchy side-eyed glance. “You want to fill him in?”
She sighed. “I didn’t feel like we could take their money yet.” She looked back at everyone else in the van. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what was going on with Jonah. I didn’t feel right charging them—I made half that stuff up and felt like an idiot.”
“You could have at least taken half,” Max interjected.
“That’s a good idea. I didn’t think of that. Dammit, this new business model is throwing me off. Why didn’t you pull me aside in there?” she replied.
“Because I just now thought of it. I’m great at coming up with things as soon as it’s time to start blaming other people,” he said, straightening out and facing forward. “We’ll remember it for next time.”
“Can we still go eat?” Lin asked. “I’m starving.”
“Yeah, we can still go eat,” Zoe said, “but first, Jonah, what’s the deal?”
“Deal is that George and Ramona have agreed to cool it with Judy and Glenn. We took a tour of the neighborhood and helped out an old friend of theirs. I need to work on something for them, but I think it’s safe to send the client an invoice.”
The mood in the vehicle brightened. “Good,” Zoe said, smiling and putting the van in gear. “Now let’s go destroy some pancakes.”
I let them know I would meet up with them later and blinked over to Tarrytown to visit my old friends DeeDee and Jeremy—maybe not old friends, but whatever. I floated up to the front of their house and noticed that there was a doorbell, so I gave it a shot, and it worked. After a few seconds, Jeremy answered with an expression that looked like he’d just opened the door to a box of mildewed socks. His nose slightly upturned, he looked down and surveyed me from head to toe.
“Hello, Jonah,” he said.
I decided to blink into a tuxedo, which seemed to mildly amuse him. He rolled his eyes and left the door open as he withdrew back into the house.
“DeeDee, Jonah is here,” he announced.
I shut the door behind me and followed him into their living room. DeeDee was surveying a tufted leather bench on chrome rectangular legs set just off the glass windows that wasn’t there on my last visit. She adjusted its d
imensions as she walked around it.
“Hi Jonah,” she said, distracted, not looking up from her work. “Do you like this, or this?” she asked as the bench grew a back of tufted leather connected by two chromed supports.
“I like it without the back,” Jeremy commented.
“I like them both,” I said.
“You’re no help,” she said, looking up at me and then blinking. “Why are you so dressed up?”
“It’s tuxedo day,” I replied. “Tuesdays are always tuxedo days.”
She nodded. “Tuesdays were always taco nights for us.”
“Sounds good, let’s taco-bout it,” I replied.
“You feel bad about that, don’t you, Jonah?” Jeremy responded. “Good, you should feel bad.”
“So what brings you by, Jonah?” DeeDee asked, still fussing with the bench that had morphed into an interesting shade of green.
“I wanted to see if I could talk y’all into building something for some friends of mine.”
DeeDee looked up. I had her full attention.
“Yeah, maybe. What part of town?”
“Hyde Park,” I replied.
DeeDee’s face lit up, and she looked to Jeremy, “Something twenty-first-century modern—” she offered.
“Maybe an updated craftsman,” he responded.
“Eh. Actually, they kind of just want their old house back,” I said.
“OK,” she said, assuming a businesslike posture and tone. “I suppose we still owe you one for relocating those gentlemen down the street. I don’t suppose you have any pictures or original blueprints we could see?”
“Pictures, yes—blueprints, no,” I responded.
“They’re probably on file with the city or title company—oh well,” she said. “We’ll make do with what we have to work with. Let’s set an appointment to meet with your friends as soon as possible.”
“OK, sounds good. I’ll get you access to pictures and in front of George and Ramona as soon as I can,” I said.
“Good to see you, Jonah, byyyyyye,” Jeremy said.
I guessed it was time for me to leave. Subtle Jeremy—
real subtle.
I blinked over to the diner, hoping to catch Zoe before the group went their different ways for the night. As luck would have it, they were all there, deep in the same card-based board game from before, but Max, Zoe, and Quinton had joined in. Sweaters and hoodies were pulled close as I entered the room.
“Hi Jonah,” Zoe said as she laid down three cards.
Tammy, Max, and Quinton all leaned back in their chairs. Apparently, whatever Zoe laid down had thwarted their plans. A round of “hey Jonah” filtered around the table, but nary an eye moved from the hand of cards in front of them. I watched round after round as the table either erupted in laughter or mock disgust every time a hand was played. Apparently, Lin won, to quiet applause, encouraging fists in the air, and silent cheers from around the table. Except Max. Max sat in his chair with his arms folded—he wasn’t the most gracious loser in the world.
Shortly after the bill was paid, the group broke, and I followed them to the van and hovered between Zoe and Max in the front as she turned the key—loud bass and electronic noises booming from the speakers before Zoe turned down the volume and tuned the radio back to static.
“Sorry,” she said. “We got a little carried away on the drive over. What’s up? Where’d you go?”
I shared my idea and asked Zoe if she could dig up any pictures or plans on George and Ramona’s old house.
“Sure,” she said. “We’ll see what we can dig up tomorrow. We’ll even try to see what we can get from the county website or their title company.” She looked up and back into the rearview mirror. “Quinton and Lin—you two busy tomorrow?” They shook their heads no. “Good. Quinton—see what you can find with the city. Lin—see what you can find from the title company. I’ll shoot you an email with what I find from the county site when I get home tonight. Sound good?” They nodded. “Alright, Jonah, I’ll meet you at Max’s tomorrow night with whatever we’re able to find.”
“Cool,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she said, putting the van in gear and backing out of the parking space. We pulled out of the lot and dropped the group off in the regular order. We were deep into a game of “would you rather” as we pulled up in front of our house.
“So yeah, I would rather fight a great-white-shark-sized puppy than a hundred puppy-sized great whites,” Zoe concluded as we came to a stop. “Because, presumably, I would be on land to fight the giant puppy and in the ocean or water to fight the sharks—big disadvantage there as I am a land-dwelling mammal. The sharks still have crazy-sharp teeth, and I would be in a piranha-style situation, and I just don’t see me winning. I’m in my natural element for the giant puppy, and it’s still a puppy—all clumsy and dumb. Who knows—maybe I can befriend it and have a lifelong companion. I would name it Pizza.”
“Why would you name it Piz—never mind—I accept your answer and award you seventy imaginary points,” Max said with a mystical twinkling of his fingers as he distributed seventy imaginary points into Zoe’s account.
We said our goodbyes, Max grabbed a radio that was next to his seat, and we headed toward the house. “That game was bullshit,” he said as the door closed behind us and we could hear the van pulling away.
“I don’t know. She made some good points—not sure about naming a giant dog Pizza.” My voice crackled through the tiny speaker.
“No, the other game—Frebopple,” he said. “I was two hands at most from the win—if Quinton and Tammy hadn’t worked together against me just so Lin could win. Everyone should just be trying to win for themselves.”
“Yeah, that really sucks,” I said in mock consolation. “Just like in traffic where that lady cut you off one time, remember?”
“You got no legs, Jonah,” he replied.
“What?”
“You are a ghost with no legs. I’m being petty and I just want you to remember you have no legs—or arms. You’re a damn ghost, Jonah.”
“Yeah, but at least I didn’t lose at Frebopple. I still value you as a person though—I just want you to remember that,” I said.
Max laughed. “Good night, Jonah.”
“Good night, Max.”
Chapter 23
“Hey you,” said a voice from behind me as I was about to follow Max inside.
It was her, the Cheshire Cat girl. How does she know where I live? I didn’t really care. I was just glad to see her again.
“Hey yourself,” I said.
“I have someplace I need to be, but thought you might like to see it. Do you want to go?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Good, come on.”
She smiled, casually reached out her hand, and started walking away from the house. I took her hand as I matched her stride. After a few steps we were in another place. A buzz of conversation filled the air, and ghosts were everywhere—and only ghosts. We were outdoors in something reminiscent of a high school keg party or a college football tailgate. Groups of ghosts sprawled out, talking, laughing, and hanging out. It took me a few moments before I realized that we were actually in a graveyard.
“Welcome to the Texas State Cemetery,” she said as
she gently pulled me farther into the gathering.
“A cemetery,” I said, “it’s like you know my deepest
desires.”
“Shut up,” she said and laughed.
I noticed various time periods represented by an array of dress. Some spirits wore suits with skinny lapels that you would see from the ’60s, some with wide lapels from the ’70s, and some from the turn of the twentieth century and before. We passed by a group of cowboys who fell silent as they tracked the two of us with obvious interest … well, they tracked one of us with
obvious interest.
“This is the oldest cemetery in Austin,” she said. “Stephen F. Austin himself is buried here.”
“Is he still around?”
“I don’t know, actually. I’ve never met him.”
We weaved our way through the crowd of spirits and gravestones. I could overhear heated conversations seemingly rooted deep in politics, as well as casual conversation about how the town wasn’t like it used to be.
“Look up there,” she said and pointed ahead.
There, in front of a grand tomb and on top of a makeshift dais sat a group of ghosts, puffed up and self-important, taking great care to look at each other rather than condescend to the gathered masses below. A lectern stood in the middle of the group, and someone was speaking.
“That’s the mayor and city council,” she whispered as she leaned in to me.
“What? Why? Who elected them?”
“People—corporeal or not—like structure. Electing leadership gives them a sense of control.”
“What do they do?”
“Not much, really.”
“Sounds about right. Do you have to register to vote?”
“No registration needed, and only a handful of people really vote.”
“Did you bring me here to vote?”
“No, I didn’t bring you here to vote, but I thought you might like to see this place. I’m actually here to meet someone though. Do you mind if I excuse myself for a bit?”
“Not at all,” I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. Why did she bring me here if she was just going to leave to talk to someone else?
“Thank you,” she said with a subtle smile and grabbed my shoulder. “Mingle around. People are friendly here.”
I looked around the gathering and back to her for a witty departing quip, but she was already gone, which was just as well because I was all out of funny one-liners.
Turning away from the council, I wandered through the crowd. The thought occurred to me that, other than Seph and whatever-her-name-was, I hadn’t really met anyone like me in my new life. I scanned groups for friendly faces, and after a few minutes of aimless walking, a cute girl who looked to be in her early twenties looked my way and smiled. I walked over and did my best to casually blend in with her group. Her friends fell silent and looked to me with a range of expressions from open welcome to mild suspicion as they noticed me in their midst.
