The Ferryman

by Amy Neftzger

  “Are you listening?” Jerome asked. He had noticed that her mind had been wandering. “You’re not much of a Ferryman, are you? You can’t even handle one passenger.”

  “We’ve crossed the river again. Shouldn’t you be gone?” Karen huffed.

  “If you were doing your job, I would be.”

  “Look, I’m new at this. I’ve never done it before so please don’t insult me,” she said, feeling very tired. The lack of sleep and physical effort of digging up the grave were finally taking a toll on her. Instead, she quietly thought about everything she had ever heard about the Ferryman and tried to come up with something that he was supposed to do that she hadn’t done yet.

  She remembered that the Ferryman carried his passengers in a boat so that they could cross the River Styx and reach the underworld. Perhaps she needed a floating vessel so that the ghost could be a passenger, but then she recalled that she had taken the ghost in her car. It was pretty much the same thing, except that one went across water and one rode over a bridge. Then she wondered if she should somehow try to physically carry the ghost across the river.

  “STOP AND LISTEN!” Jerome shouted. “You’re not listening to me! No one has ever listened to me! Not my wife or children or anyone! I spent my whole life talking without being heard.”

  “And a good part of your death, it seems,” Karen replied with a dismissive tone. She was still in thought about how to be rid of the ghost.

  “You’re not listening now. You never even asked my name. I had to tell you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Karen said after a brief pause, and she meant it.

  For the next hour Karen didn’t talk or think about herself or her needs. Instead, she asked Jerome to tell her about himself, and she listened. Karen sat on the cold brick wall at the edge of the walkway that led over the river and she listened, because that was what Jerome needed the most. He just needed someone to listen.

  He told her his life story and what he had been thinking about while he was alone in that grave for the past two-hundred years. He had a wife named Elizabeth and four children, all girls. He adored his family but often felt outnumbered and overwhelmed by the presence of women. He was also the managing partner of the only store within 50 miles and knew most of the community. The other business partner, Elias Smith, spent most of his time locating inexpensive trading goods in other cities and shipping them to the store. Jerome had been the one who sold these goods to the community, so he knew everyone in town and also knew their problems. There had been no local tavern with a sympathetic barkeep, and a conversation with Jerome when the store was empty was as good as therapy for the residents. He spent most of his life listening to other people’s problems and needs. He had been a friend to everyone but often felt lonely.

  When he finally appeared to have run out of words she said, “Well, Jerome Brown, it’s time for you to cross the river.” She didn’t know how she knew it would work this time, but she was certain that when Mr. Brown set foot on the other side that his soul would finally go to rest. And it did.

  As soon as Jerome stepped off the bridge, his translucent form vanished from the bottom upwards. He tried to say goodbye to Karen as his legs disappeared, but he was gone before the words left his lips.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” Karen said to herself as she stared into the empty space where the ghost had stood.

  “I gave you an easy one to start with,” Fate said. Karen jumped when she heard the voice and turned to see Fate wearing a three piece pinstriped suit, which still managed to appear very feminine on her.

  “I thought I was paid to carry him across the river. The job is done. I’m going back to my life.”

  “You accepted the pay, so you’re the new Ferryman. It’s a full-time job with plenty of customers, and you’re not done until I let you go,” Fate said. “And don’t try to get fired by slacking off or doing a bad job. It doesn’t work that way.” Karen’s first instinct was to challenge Fate, but she wisely decided that this was neither the place nor the time. She needed to get home.

  “Why me?” Karen asked Fate.

  “It takes a woman to get a job done right. Some men can’t even die properly without the help of a woman.” She looked away as if she had said all that needed to be said, and Karen knew enough not to push for more. Instead, she addressed what she really wanted to know.

  “I got him where he needs to be. I did my job. I want my life back,” Karen said.

  “You’re not done,” Fate replied. “You’re done when I’m done with you.”

  “When will that be?” Karen asked, angry and confused.

  “I’ll let you know,” Fate replied and vanished.

  Karen knew that Fate would return, but she didn’t know where or when. No one does. All Karen knew was that this was the beginning, but of what she didn’t know. As she returned to her car and headed home to check on Claude, she realized that the river was a metaphor. It was never a physical river that Jerome needed to cross. That’s why the crossing had been so difficult for him. She also saw that while death knew no gender bias, Fate did. Fate had chosen a woman for a reason. While the weight of this last realization intrigued Karen, it also instilled a sense of alarm in her about her future. She felt as if the bridge she was driving over was giving out beneath her, allowing her to tumble into the rapids below.

  Episode Two

  Fate Cannot Be Trusted

  Karen could no longer watch The Sixth Sense. She had never really liked the film, but she thought it might have some answers, given her current situation. However, not only was she tired of it, but she had also come to realize that it was useless. The situation in the movie was very different from hers. Although she could see dead people everywhere, her life wasn’t a movie. And while this new ability to see ghosts scared her at first, she quickly overcame her fear in exchange for a focus on finding a way out of her situation.

  Even if a greater force was directing her life, she felt that it was an individual who specialized in comedies. Her life since Fate had taken over felt very unreal — far too silly to be real in some ways. At the same time it felt as if she had been submerged into another dimension of being, and she now questioned the very definition of reality. Fate had announced she was in charge, but Karen couldn’t help thinking that there was a better plot line out there somewhere. Karen decided that she needed to find a more kindred spirit than Fate to direct her story, but she didn’t know how to get out of her contract. That was the critical part.

  Karen was now in the library doing more in-depth research, but she had spent the last two days on the Internet looking up everything that she could find related to the Ferryman, and she learned a number of things. In Greek mythology the Ferryman’s name was Charon — not too different from her own name. She had also learned that payment consisted of a coin, usually an obol, which was placed in the mouth of the deceased individual. The coins that Karen had stolen from the grave were placed on the eyes of the corpse and not in the mouth. This, Karen decided, was evidence that the payment had not been gone about in the proper manner. Therefore, Fate could not argue that Karen was required to perform the Ferryman’s duties because she had taken his wages. It was a technicality, but a very real one. Karen was going to discuss this point with Fate as soon as she appeared again.

  The problem with Fate is that no matter how many times you call out to her, she has her own timing that’s irrelevant to whatever anyone else happens to be doing, even if the person is doing Fate’s bidding. Some individuals might refer to Fate as having a difficult personality, while others might accuse her of not being a “team player.” Regardless, even if she plays by her own rules, she still calls the shots for everyone else.

  “You won’t find what you’re looking for here,” Fate said loudly. Karen jumped at the sound of Fate’s voice and dropped the book she was reading onto the library table. Fate was smartly dressed in camel colored tweed pants and a brown asymmetrical sweater over a cream colored shell. Her nails were perfectly man
icured with bright red polish, and they looked like tulip petals fluttering in the wind each time she moved her hands while speaking.

  Although she had been looking forward to Fate’s appearance, Karen was still startled by the abruptness of her entrance. Karen took a slow, deep breath to steady herself as she flipped the cover of the book closed.

  “There are less dramatic ways to enter a room,” Karen whispered coldly. The ghost of a librarian put her finger to her lips as she glared at Karen. Her dress was at least twenty years out of date, and she wore a large scarf around her neck. Karen thought it was odd how none of the living librarians noticed Karen or Fate, since Fate was so loud.

  “I can be subtle when I want,” Fate replied. “In fact, I can be so discreet that people don’t even know I’m present until I’m gone. I’m like the wake of a schooner on a calm sea, rustling floating bathers into a wave of understanding.”

  “How poetic,” Karen said. “What is it that you think I’m looking for?”

  “A way out of your contract,” Fate replied. “But there isn’t one. It’s a solid deal.”

  “So you say.”

  “And what I say is all that matters here.”

  Karen narrowed her eyes at Fate. “Look,” she said after a few moments, “we’re not friends. In fact, I don’t think that we like each other very much. So why don’t we simply go our separate ways? There’s no need to continue this relationship. We can part amicably.”

  Fate laughed in an unfriendly manner as she placed one of her gloved hands to her own throat. Karen looked around, but no one else heard or was bothered by Fate’s uproar. Even the librarian’s ghost was more concerned with the whispering of other patrons as she floated around to scold them. The patrons continued their activities, no matter how closely the librarian leaned into their conversations to admonish them. After a few moments Fate’s laughter slowed, and she lowered her hand to place it on her hip, moving the flap on her sweater aside in order to do so.

  “I know you think I don’t like you, but I do. Very much. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Fate said with a too-bright smile.

  “That’s odd, because from my perspective I think that if you liked me, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “My perspective is the only one that matters,” Fate replied flatly. “When you control the future, you might have a say.”

  “That hardly seems fair,” Karen shot back.

  “‘Fair’ is a word I choose not to keep in my vocabulary,” Fate replied. Just then the ghost of the librarian swooped down upon Karen and hovered above her. It felt as if she had brought a cold draft with her, and Karen shivered. When she looked up, Karen noticed the marks on her neck and wondered if the ghost had been strangled or hung herself. It was difficult to see the bruising behind the printed scarf, but the marks were there and Karen glimpsed the sight of it more than once.

  “I don’t expect her to behave,” the librarian hissed as she pointed her thumb at Fate, “but I do expect a bit more from the living. Respect the library. Be quiet or leave!”

  “Sorry,” Karen whispered to the librarian. The ghost floated down to a normal height and then drifted off between the shelves again, pausing occasionally to shush individuals who couldn’t see or hear her. Karen watched the cold vapor of absent breath misting from the librarian’s mouth as she spoke. Karen turned to look at Fate again. “The legends say that the Ferryman was paid by placing a coin in the mouth of the dead person.”

  “First of all, legends can be wrong. It happens. Secondly, you were paid and entered into a contract with me.”

  “I never signed anything,” Karen insisted.

  “You mortals,” Fate replied with a smirk. “You think the world is only as you define it. Not all contracts require a signature. There are contracts written into the fabric of the universe and you enter into them all the time. But you break them all the time, too. You humans break contracts a lot.”

  “You’re harsh,” Karen said. She felt as if she had accidentally eaten a chicken bone and was choking on it.

  “You have never seen me be harsh. Stop applying your standards to those who are above them.” Fate stood regally in her fitted camel-colored slacks and pointed shoes.

  Karen raised her eyebrows but decided not to respond to the statement. She didn’t understand the logic, but it was obvious that she wouldn't be able to argue with Fate over whether or not the contract was valid. She just needed to find a way out of it, but that would take some time. However, Karen reasoned, there must be a way out. There had to be. After all, the job had been vacant when she was drafted into it. Or had it been vacant? Karen didn’t know the answer, but it was something to consider. Maybe the only way out of this job was to find a replacement. Regardless, the previous Ferryman had managed to leave and Karen resolved to do the same. She swallowed hard before speaking again.

  “Why are you here?” Karen asked. She looked down at her cell phone to check the time. She had three hours before her son Claude came home from school, and she was looking forward to seeing him. She had been thinking about taking him to one of those action movies that he loved so much.

  “Your next fare,” Fate explained as she pointed in the direction of the librarian’s ghost.

  “What if I refuse?” Karen asked with a defiant look on her face.

  “Then you take her place,” Fate explained. “Someone needs to cross the river. I don’t care who.”

  “So it’s me or her?” Karen asked. She swallowed yet again. “The librarian?”

  “Yes,” Fate answered and abruptly vanished with a slight popping noise. Her disappearance startled Karen as much as her appearance had, and Karen wished that Fate would be a little less dramatic. It was unsettling for Karen to see Fate suddenly appear or disappear, but perhaps that’s what Fate wanted. At the thought of this, Karen resolved not to be disturbed and get through her next assignment. There was no doubt that this job paid well, because the coins she had received for the last job would be enough to pay her rent and groceries for the next six months. It was the only reason she could even think about taking Claude to the movies. The money was useful. However, the afterlife wasn’t a line of work Karen enjoyed. She would continue to do the jobs assigned to her, but she would keep her eyes open for the first opportunity to leave.

  Karen looked around and spotted the ghost of the librarian. She was floating around and recommending books to people who didn’t know she was there and couldn’t hear her. Karen wondered if the ghost knew she was dead. It wasn’t the sort of thing one asked in polite conversation, but she had to find out before she could help her, and Fate had left without introducing her to the ghost or explaining why she was there. Karen approached the ghost cautiously.

  “Do you have any books about Fate?” Karen asked.

  “Not the one you were talking to,” the librarian replied. “Just the concept of fate as it applies to religion and philosophy. Would you like to see any of those?”

  “No, I don’t suppose I would,” Karen said after a few moments of thought. After another brief pause she decided to continue the conversation. “You seem to be very knowledgeable about the collection at this facility. How long have you worked here?”

  “Over twenty seven years in life, and another forty in death.” That solved the problem of whether the librarian knew she was dead or not. It still didn’t make things easy, but it was one less thing to worry about.

  “You’re very dedicated to stay here for so long,” said Karen. “Are books a sort of heaven for you?”

  “I like it here. Books make me feel alive,” the ghost replied. She smiled as she glanced around the place.

  “I know what you mean,” Karen said quietly. “I love to read. It helped me in school, also. I read all my textbooks thoroughly. I nearly had a perfect GPA.”

  “Well, when you’re dead, you can find your own library to haunt. This one is mine.” She turned to leave, but Karen rushed forward and made another attempt to keep her there.

  “Ther
e are better places. A lot of people believe in a pleasant afterlife,” Karen said. As the librarian turned her head away Karen pressed the issue. “Do you believe in heaven?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t you have loved ones there?”

  It was the wrong question. As soon as Karen finished speaking the librarian began to sob. She turned away, but Karen walked around to face her again. She placed her hand on the librarian’s shoulder. The librarian’s body felt soft, but not solid. It felt like it was part velvet and part breath. The librarian glanced up at Karen with half a smile between her tears.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” Karen said. When the distraught librarian didn’t respond, Karen continued. “Perhaps we could go outside and talk. You might feel better if you talk about it. Maybe I can even help.”

  “You can’t help me. No one can.” The librarian’s nose was running, leaving an unattractive trail that moved across her chin and left Karen with a queasy feeling.

  “But I don’t know whether I’m able to help or not until I know your situation.”

  “If Fate refused to help me, then no one can.”

  “But I work for Fate!” Karen exclaimed so loudly that the librarian stopped crying long enough to shush her.

  “You work for her?”

  “Yes, and she asked me to help you. You see? We’ll figure this out. Let’s go outside and talk about it. My name is Karen, by the way.”

  “I’m Betsy,” the librarian said as she wiped her eyes.

  They went to the courtyard where Karen could begin speaking at her normal volume. It felt more comfortable out in the warmth of the afternoon sun, and the heat gave Karen confidence. So far this assignment was going smoothly, other than the small number of people who thought Karen was crazy for talking to herself. However, Karen resolved this issue by placing her fingers to her ear as if adjusting an earpiece as she held her phone conspicuously in her other hand so that the onlookers would notice it.