The Ferryman

by Amy Neftzger

  It seemed as if Betsy was more than willing to talk, and Karen simply needed to gather the right information to help her cross her bridge into the afterlife. Once this job was finished, Karen would check the movie times and make it to the matinee with Claude before dinner. She smiled to herself, imagining her son’s excitement when she would tell him where they were going.

  “Fate is so unpredictable,” Betsy said with a sigh. “She’s so beautiful and sometimes she seems so nice, but then other times she’s a mean … ”

  “Bitch,” Karen offered.

  “I don’t use that language,” Betsy replied primly. “I was going to call her a little monster. When I asked her for help she laughed at me. I was sorry I had ever tried to talk with her. But that husband of hers is a charmer, so I suppose they balance each other out.”

  “Husband?” Karen asked, suddenly distracted from her train of thought by the concept. “Fate is married?” The idea was shocking. Fate appeared so independent that it didn’t seem right that anyone would ever be with her as an equal. She was a loner. Wasn’t she? Marriage inferred a partnership. Karen stared off into space as she imagined the sort of spineless man who would put up with Fate’s strong personality and demanding nature. Or maybe he was someone who could actually stand up to her. Karen couldn’t decide what he would be like, but no matter how she tried she couldn’t see Fate staying with someone who challenged her authority.

  “Of course, she’s got a husband. They’ve been together for years. Centuries or more, maybe since the dawn of history. Maybe forever. I don’t know how long,” Betsy replied. She added in a hushed tone. “But it’s a troubled marriage.”

  Karen didn’t doubt that. Given the way Fate had treated her, Karen expected that all of Fate’s relationships were strained. But if the marriage had lasted for so long, Fate’s husband must have been a man who was her equal or better.

  “A husband,” Karen said with a laugh. “What sort of man would marry Fate?” It was one more element of the ridiculous in Karen’s already absurd life.

  “Fortune,” Betsy replied without hesitation. “She’s married to Fortune.” As soon as the librarian said the name, it made sense, and Karen wondered how many people’s lives had been ruined by the couple attempting to assert authority over one another. Some marriage squabbles have eternal consequences, she decided. Karen could hear a mother calling to her children somewhere across the library parking lot, and the thought of Fate having a family also popped into her head. A car drove by, leaving the rich scent of unburned gasoline lingering in the air. The smell woke Karen from her thoughts.

  “What does Fortune look like?” Karen asked as she turned her head to one side. “You’ve seen him?”

  “I only saw him once, but I’ll never forget him. He’s beautiful. Much too good for her. He has a way of smiling that just sweeps a girl off her feet, and I don’t mean that figuratively. I lost my balance looking into those eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes. I could just stare into them forever.” The librarian leaned against the trunk of a tree and touched the bark, tracing her fingers through the deeper crevices.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Karen replied. She wanted to know more about Fate’s husband, but it would have to wait until she could ask Fate, herself. Betsy’s knowledge was limited on the subject, and it was also more important for Karen to focus on Betsy at the moment. Karen knew that once she finished this job, Fate would appear again, and so she turned the conversation back to the librarian. “Tell me about your situation. It sounds like you believe in heaven, but don’t want to go to there for some reason.”

  “I don’t want to go to heaven alone,” Betsy replied.

  “Are you waiting for someone? Someone who’s still living?”

  “No, not living. Wandering. Running away.” A butterfly flittered overhead and then brushed Karen’s cheek as it descended toward a nearby bush. Karen watched its wings stretching up and down repeatedly as she thought.

  “Another ghost? Is he afraid of heaven?”

  “He thinks he’s going to hell, but I know he won’t.”

  “How?”

  “Because I love him.”

  Karen didn’t know if love could save. She didn’t know much about the whole situation of the afterlife, but she knew that she needed more information on this mysterious individual.

  “Is this a family member? Or friend?” She wasn’t sure how to delicately phrase the question. She paused to weigh several alternatives and asked, “Or a husband?”

  “He was someone else’s husband, but we were lovers,” Betsy explained, and Karen nodded that she understood. “It was complicated.”

  “It sounds complicated.” Karen tried to appear sympathetic as she spoke.

  “Very.”

  Perhaps she was getting better at the job, but Karen saw clearly why this ghost was stuck. Something deep inside of Karen told her that she was right about her impression. Betsy was waiting for someone who wasn’t willing to move on. Karen saw that she needed to talk to this other ghost and possibly move both of them into the afterlife in order to complete her assignment. It was a lot of work to get done before matinee prices changed to evening fares, so she wanted to get started. She thought again about how happy Claude would be to go to the movies, and the thought of the smile on his face was enough to motivate her. She would buy him popcorn, also, if she finished this job in time.

  “I’m no expert in morality, but if you know where your friend is right now, then we can go talk to him and see if I can’t help move him into the afterlife. That’s what I do. I’m supposed to help people cross over.” Betsy’s eyes widened as she smiled.

  “Perhaps Fate does want to help me, after all. I’m sorry I thought she was a monster,” Betsy said happily.

  “Take me to your friend,” Karen said with a hopeful smile.

  The river again, Karen thought as they approached it. There was no escaping it. The same faint smell of rotting fish in the misty air blew against Karen’s cheeks. It was damp and the soil was muddy, sticking to her shoes with a suctioning noise as she walked.

  Betsy had brought her to the banks of the river and pointed to a ghost that was limping up and down underneath a weeping willow tree. Karen wondered if the ghost was trying to cross the river by himself, but then she noticed his dripping clothing. As he paced, he also dragged a millstone tied to his left foot.

  So, he was a suicide, Karen thought. She didn’t know what the rules were on suicide, but if she had been given the task of moving these souls into a happy paradise where they could be together again, she would get them moved. It would happen.

  Betsy and Karen took a few steps forward until Betsy broke into a run. The man looked up. When his eyes met Betsy’s, he suddenly reached down to pick up the stone tied around his leg. Karen wasn’t sure if he wanted to run toward Betsy or away from her.

  “Stop!” he yelled. “I told you not to come near me!”

  “Jonathan, I forgive you for killing me!” Betsy exclaimed as she ran up to him, wide-eyed and panting with excitement.

  “What? He was the one who murdered you?” Karen gasped.

  “With his beautiful big strong hands,” Betsy replied, her eyes glazed over.

  A codependent ghost. Those were the worst kind, Karen decided.

  “I thought you were afraid he was going to hell for his infidelity!” Karen yelled.

  “Why would I think that?” Betsy asked as she cocked her head to one side. “I told you it was complicated. But I forgive him, so he’s not condemned now.” As Betsy took the other ghost’s hand he dropped the millstone. If they had been alive it would have crushed both their feet. However, since they were already dead and the millstone was part of Jonathan’s ethereal outfit, it passed right through their feet and landed with a thud on the ground.

  “Jonathan,” Karen said carefully, “my name is Karen. I’d like to help.”

  “There’s no help. There’s no hope,” he moaned dramatically. Karen wondered what Betsy saw in this man
. He wasn’t strong or confident, at least not in death. His expression was a mixture of worry and concern as he fidgeted with the chain tied to his millstone. He reminded Karen of a wounded kitten. He sighed several times in rapid succession before Karen had a chance to speak again.

  “My job is to help people into the afterlife. I’d like to do that for you, if you’ll let me.” She did want to help.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Betsy said as she caressed Jonathan’s hand. “I forgave you a long time ago. It’s been over thirty years. This woman can help us get to heaven.”

  Jonathan sighed as he turned to look directly into the sun. Karen thought he was about to start crying, and she’d had enough of weeping ghosts for one day. Clearly, the thought of the afterlife wasn’t enough to entice Jonathan. Karen decided to attempt a different tactic before he started crying.

  “There’s nothing for you here, is there?” she asked. “Why stay here wandering along the riverbank?” It was quiet except for the sound of the water tapping against the bank. The sound reminded Karen of the butterfly wings that had touched her earlier. The thought made her shiver.

  “It’s better than the alternative.” He wiped the palms of his hands on his thighs, grasping at his baggy wool slacks.

  “You don’t know the alternative until you try it.” When Jonathan remained immovable, Karen continued. “How long have you been here?”

  “Twenty years.” He looked tired, as if the time spent by the river had not been good to him.

  “That’s a long while. Doesn’t it get lonely?” Karen asked. She remembered that Betsy had said he’d been married. She could see that he really didn’t want to stay there, yet he was hesitant to move on. He just needed a little convincing. “Did you have a family? Children?”

  “I had people I loved,” he replied, and Karen decided not to press the issue. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about family or if he had moved on to other women once his wife and Betsy were gone. Maybe his concern was getting to heaven and having to reconcile with too many women who thought they’d be with him for eternity. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and then quickly rubbed the pain from his face with his hands. When he looked back at Karen his expression was placid.

  “If people you loved have moved on, you’re not doing them a favor by staying here,” Karen encouraged him as sympathetically as she could. She waited a few minutes as she saw Jonathan struggle to hold back tears. After a few moments of watching him struggle, Karen spoke again. “I can help you to be with them.” She knew that he needed to leave the riverbank and cross the bridge. It was a matter of his will and nothing more. It felt wrong to Karen that he was here, as if his presence on the riverbank was putting the world out of balance in some way. “You’ve had years to think over what you’ve done, and it’s in the past. It’s time to move forward.” She held out her hand and stretched herself upwards to appear taller as she waited. Jonathan stared at the hand blankly but didn’t move.

  “It’s time,” Betsy said. “We’ve been unhappy for so long. I want the misery behind us. Come with me. Please. It’s the only way you can make me happy now. Do this for me. For us.”

  “You can do this,” Karen said firmly. “I’m here to help. We’ll all go together.” He hesitated one last time, but then he limped forward without speaking, dragging the millstone along as he walked.

  Karen wondered if she could move both of them at once and felt her confidence in her ability to perform her role waning, but she kept up appearances for Jonathan’s sake and marched forward. She held Jonathan’s hand as Betsy clutched happily to his side. They were all connected. Jonathan still appeared uncertain, but he was moving.

  It was slow going, but the group made their way up the slippery bank and onto the sidewalk path that crossed the river. Karen stepped over the low brick wall and waited for her companions to float over it as she continued to hold onto Jonathan’s soft, airy hand.

  “We’re going together,” Betsy sighed as they ascended the bridge and looked out over the water. A few times Jonathan started to hyperventilate, but Karen distracted him by talking about how she had helped Jerome into the afterlife and how he had been so surprised about how much things had changed since his death. She kept Jonathan’s mind on the happier aspects of making the change and didn’t talk about the move into the afterlife. That was something she didn’t really know about, anyway. There was no way she could assure him of what he would feel or what it would look like.

  They passed over the top of the bridge and Karen felt the wind pick up, occasionally lifting Jonathan and Betsy slightly in the breeze, like paper dolls. Their legs flapped in mid air before drifting back down to the pavement. Betsy giggled like a schoolgirl each time it happened.

  As soon as they reached the other side, Jonathan took a step forward and started to vanish from the bottom upwards, but before he was completely gone he turned to Karen. He eyes were filled with tears.

  “I knew it,” Jonathan said with both resignation and disappointment in his voice, but then he was gone before he could say more. Karen wasn’t sure if she’d heard a distant scream or if she imagined it.

  “What did he mean?” Betsy asked. “Why is he gone and I’m still here? He was supposed to be with me forever.”

  “I don’t think so,” Karen said softly as she thought about the scream. “He murdered you. I think he may be in hell.”

  “Then there’s no heaven for me.” Betsy started to weep again, but as her tears fell she vanished from the bottom upward, the drops vanishing in midair with her. Now that Jonathan was gone Betsy was finally crossing her own bridge. She was gone in less than a minute.

  Karen inhaled deeply a few times as she glanced around uneasily. She had moved both of the ghosts and exhausted herself in the process. She searched the vicinity for a place to sit and located a nearby bench about a block away.

  She fought back tears as she rushed to the bench, but once she sat down she started to cry. She didn’t understand why Betsy wanted to spend eternity with the man who murdered her, but Karen knew that Betsy loved Jonathan. None of us are perfect, Karen thought, but we all want to be loved in our imperfection. And who really deserves love, anyway? Does anyone? Sure, we all want it, but the fact that some people find it and others don’t seemed especially tragic to Karen at that moment. Betsy had found love and wanted to keep it, but Fate had intervened.

  “I hate this job,” Karen said aloud. She felt the warm tears as they rolled down her face and neck.

  “Well, you’re very good at it.” Fate appeared standing next to the bench.

  “It just seems so sad for her to be in heaven without him,” Karen explained as she wiped her eyes. She was too distraught over what she had just witnessed for the suddenness of Fate’s appearance to upset her.

  “Oh, no. If she were in heaven, she would be together with him because she loves him. They’re both in separate hells.” Fate spoke the words in a mater-of-fact tone as she used the toe of her high-heeled boot to kick a few pebbles off the pathway.

  “What?” Karen blurted. It didn’t make sense. She stopped crying as she turned to look Fate in the eye. “Why are they both in hell? What about happy endings? What about the lovers being reunited in death?” She felt her face flush and the warmth spread over her entire body as she clenched her fists.

  “They were never lovers. She loved him, but he never really loved her. He used her, but he didn’t love her. Eventually she lost her worth to him and disrupted his life. That’s why he killed her.”

  “But he obviously felt regret. He killed himself!”

  “That was years later. It was regret, but unrelated to her death,” Fate explained. “He was pathetic, really. Couldn’t you see that about him? It was obvious, and you’re normally so intuitive.” Fate puckered her lips and scrunched her face up tightly and then released it back into her normal expression.

  Karen held herself up. This wasn’t part of the deal. She was supposed to help people cross their bridge
s so that they could find peace. She was a good person. She didn’t want to cause anyone pain.

  “Oh,” Fate said in a mocking tone as she read Karen’s expression, “did you think that you were an angel helping all these souls go to heaven? It never crossed your mind that some were going to other places. The reason Jonathan killed Betsy is because Betsy murdered his wife. But in all your amateur detective work, you forgot to ask those questions.” Fate paused to brush a bit of dirt from her slacks. “No matter. You still did your job, and quite efficiently, too.”

  “You tricked me.” It was all Karen could say without exploding, but she held her tongue from saying more, because at this point she realized what she should have always known: that Fate could not be trusted.

  Episode Three

  The Wheels of Fortune

  The ghost pushed his wheelchair up the crest of the bridge and let it roll at top speed down the other side. This particular bridge was one of those extremely tall, vaulted pieces of architecture that spanned about a quarter of a mile across the river. If there had been snow it would resemble a cement ski slope with a slightly fishy smell, but it was much too warm for that. Karen felt the thick moisture in the air as she breathed in the scent of the river. It was late evening and already getting dark, so she heard more than she could see. While she loved the sound of the waves breaking on the banks, she’d never been fond of the rotting smell. She swatted at her nose a few times, but the scent was everywhere and couldn’t be waved away.

  The man in the wheelchair appeared to be about thirty years old, but his happy expression was child-like. He lifted his arms as high as he could, which was slightly above his shoulders. The chair had picked up speed almost immediately, and it was now racing along. He alternated between screaming with excitement and smiling with his teeth exposed to the rushing wind. The chair jerked from side to side as it continued to increase in velocity. If the gentleman hadn’t already been dead, Karen would have been concerned about the impending crash at the bottom of the bridge. The impact could kill a living person, or at least cripple someone. However, both points were moot in this situation, she thought.