Giving Up the Ghost

by Magenta Wilde

  “Hello, Meg,” I said.

  “That’s Lady Silvia, to you,” she corrected, emphasizing her stage name. I knew she preferred to go by Lady Silvia, but I sometimes liked to irritate her so I persisted in calling her Meg Jacobsen instead. “Of course I knew that you were in here from a mile away, since your hair color is loud enough to wake the dead.”

  “Maybe you should try it. If you wake the dead, it might improve your dating options.”

  She scowled at me. We had a tempestuous history. She’d spread some gossip about my mother some years back – nothing that probably wouldn’t have gotten out eventually, but my mother was mortified nonetheless. I was embarrassed by it, too – at least at the time – so I wasn’t exactly thrilled by her blabbermouth tendencies.

  “Now ladies. I know you two like to spar – and that is mostly what it is between you two – but please, not in my shop,” Emily cut in. Lady Silvia opened her mouth to argue, but quickly clamped it shut. She instead went and looked at a display of teas and biscotti that occupied one cabinet near the entrance. She occasionally shot hateful glares in my direction. I stuck my tongue out at her in turn.

  “How can you stand the sight of her,” I asked Emily.

  She shrugged as she handed me my coffee drinks. “She does some bad things, mostly misguided, but she’s not all bad. She just wants attention is all.”

  “I just see her as a fraud.”

  “She’s really not. You or I could do magic like we’re playing piano by ear, but she’s better versed in the technical aspects. I think you’d find some things you’d like about her if you got over your grudge. Plus, you know your mother’s only mad about her spreading talk around town because she didn’t get to tell the tale herself.”

  I paused, surprised for a moment. “I can’t disagree with that,” I said. Once my mother had gotten over her initial horror, she did enjoy telling the story – and frequently embellishing it – repeatedly to any captive audience.

  I waved goodbye to Emily and made my way out of her café, giving Lady Silvia one last look before returning to my shop. Truth be told, I sometimes really did like arguing with her.

  Moments later I handed Vanessa her coffee drink. She took a sniff, then a long sip.

  I waited to hear her thoughts.

  “Emily nailed it. I was craving marshmallow like you wouldn’t believe, and this drink tastes like telling ghost stories around the campfire.” She closed her eyes and savored it. “It also tastes like getting nasty in a sleeping bag afterwards,” she smiled deviously in my direction.

  “I didn’t realize Emily added some horny syrup to your drink. Speaking of horny,” I started, opting to shift topics slightly, “after you brought up that I do readings, Wyatt asked me if my powers could tell him if he had a chance with you.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him your dating life was up to you. You know well enough what you want. Plus, I know who you’ve been seeing the last few months.”

  “Don’t I ever,” Vanessa said, sighing. “And I’m perfectly happy with Ethan.”

  She was, definitely. And not just happy, but deeply in love. She was glowing, and surrounded by a pink aura. As her smile deepened, she sighed and I could smell sun-drenched roses and jasmine radiating off of her. She was in love. And lust.

  “Look at you glowing,” I said.

  I put my arm around Vanessa’s shoulders and gave her a small sisterly squeeze. She smiled back at me and leaned her head on my shoulder. She was an inch or two taller than me, so she didn’t have to crane her neck down too much.

  A moment later the door opened and a group of women came in. All were probably in their early fifties, and dressed for comfort, with sensible shoes, cargo pants, and jackets with multiple pockets. Three had their hair cropped short, and two wore their hair in ponytails. The last one wore a pink ball cap. I suspected she maybe was or had been undergoing chemo. All wore minimal or no makeup.

  I straightened and detached my arm from Vanessa, and she lifted her head up, surprised.

  “Hello, ladies.” I said. “Welcome.”

  “Oh, look at you two. Don’t stop on account of us,” piped up one woman. She had twinkling blue-green eyes, suntanned skin and short silvery white hair. She gave us a saucy wink.

  Vanessa and I glanced at one another, unsure what to think. I looked back at the lady, my mouth open to say something, when I spotted a rainbow pin on her jacket.

  Vanessa must have spotted it, too, for she draped her arms around me and rested her head on her shoulders.

  “How are you fine ladies doing on this lovely day?” she asked, blinking her big doe eyes at them as a beatific grin lit up her features.

  An hour later I had put money – lots of it – into the till, and waved goodbye to the six ladies. Vanessa stood at the door, hugging each one as they left. One or two lingered a bit too long into those hugs. If I were Vanessa’s girlfriend, I was pretty sure I’d be jealous.

  “They sure bought a lot, didn’t they?” Vanessa said.

  “Indeed they did,” I murmured in appreciation. “It’s Christmas in September.” I looked up at her, giving her a pointed stare. “Did you have to invite them to our wedding, though?”

  “They thought we were in love, and why disillusion them? They’ll have many happy memories of their trip up north and the nice young lesbian couple that ran that magical shop. They don’t know that you’ll leave me for a big, strapping man who can chop wood and carry you off to bed like a primitive caveman. I never even saw that coming. Sadly, I couldn’t compete with all that testosterone, no matter how hard I tried,” she giggled, sticking out her tongue and wiggling it lasciviously in my direction.

  “If you’d busted out that move in front of them, they might have bought even more. Or just kidnapped you for their Sapphic squad.”

  She shrugged. “I’m an awesome saleswoman, what can I say?”

  I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t argue. “Someone has been hanging around my mom too much.”

  “You weren’t offended, were you?” Vanessa asked. “I just thought, why correct them? They’re probably only in town for a few days, tops.”

  “No, of course I’m not offended. The wedding detail was piling it on a bit thick, but let them have a nice story. Everyone wants a vacation filled with good memories, and like you said, thinking of the nice young lesbian couple who ran that cute little shop is probably going stick around longer for them to them than fudge, fall color, pasties and time at the casino. Unless one of them wins big. In that case, I’m leaving you. That silver-haired Mary seems like quite the spitfire, and she looks generous.” I gave Vanessa a wink.

  “Oh, so now the truth comes out. You’re just a gold digger.”

  Vanessa was heading for the side exit to leave and return to my mom and Tom’s shop, when the front door opened.

  Lady Silvia made her way inside, scowling in my direction.

  She looked over at Vanessa, furrowing her brow a bit. “Hello, Vanessa. I don’t see Tom’s truck across the lot, so I thought you’d be manning the register over there.”

  “They’re out, yes, but I was just paying Poppy a visit and enjoying the coffee she bought me.”

  “How kind of you,” Lady Silvia drawled. “You’ll have less of a chance of catching fleas the less time you spend in Fiona’s shop, and you being here gives Poppy some sorely-needed company. She probably forgets there are other people in this world since she rarely gets any customers.”

  “Speaking of customers,” I started, “did your crystal ball say no one was looking to be duped today, so you decided to roam the streets instead?”

  Vanessa watched coolly as the verbal fireworks sparked around her, and Lady Silvia narrowed her eyes in distaste.

  “Business is just fine,” she seethed. “I was actually putting out posters around town to advertise my psychic services. Halloween is coming, after all. People like to get readings when the veil between the living and dead is the thinnest.”


  “And you’re dressed for the part all year long,” I muttered. “It probably helps in that it distracts from your lack of talent.”

  Lady Silvia’s face reddened. I could tell she didn’t want to hear that her readings were duds.

  “And what do you do to distract people from the voices in your head? Oh wait, those are the only friends you can hold on to.”

  “Those voices are more real than anything you see in your crystal ball. Except it does show that you pack a pretty big set of cojones by charging what you do for those bullcrap readings,” I muttered.

  “I’ll have you know I have studied witchcraft and divination for years! I’ve been in contact with many spirits, including witches and priestesses!”

  I crossed my arms in disgust and glared in her direction as I huffed, “Are they the ones who have you run those classy ads in the paper: Buy one reading get a second one half off?”

  “Well, it takes work. Some matters are complicated and take time to bring answers,” she said.

  I couldn’t help but think about what Emily had told me earlier. It didn’t make me feel too sympathetic, however, since she had, I was certain, come in to my store simply to continue the argument we had started earlier that day.

  “We’re not talking rocket science here,” I said. “When you try to get folks to come back for repeated readings as if the job can’t be done without a bunch of paid sessions, well, red flags and all.”

  “Red flags?” Lady Silvia huffed. “You must be talking about your hair. People can hear it, it’s so loud and tacky.”

  “Says the blonde lady with dark roots and so much plastic in her bra that she can’t stand by a radiator for fear of bursting into flame.”

  “You!” Lady Silvia started heading my way. I had a feeling she was going to go yank at my topknot – sadly, a couple past experiences backed me on that – and I wasn’t having it. It had turned out too perfectly undone today, in that way that I thought was both sexy and disheveled. I moved to the other side of the counter and shot out a hand for her to stop.

  I suddenly saw my dad’s ghost flicker into sight and give a firm tug to Lady Silvia’s hair. A large chunk, attached to a clip, easily popped out. My dad’s face grimaced in shock and he flung the hank of hair toward the door and vanished. It landed by a candle and flamed up, but Vanessa quickly grabbed one of the larger tourist guides we kept by the door and slapped out the flame. Lady Silvia, in the meantime, jerked around, looking behind her for the culprit, and seemed poised to take a punch at one of us. “Who did that?” she asked, as I fanned away burned plastic stink and Vanessa fought back laughter. “Did you … curse me?” Lady Silvia looked alarmed.

  “Maybe I did,” I replied, resting my hand on my hip. “But your hair probably just wanted to escape and start a fresh life as road kill.”

  “Something pulled my hair,” Lady Silvia said, her voice growing shrill.

  “It just fell out. That kind of thing happens from time to time,” Vanessa replied, trying to restore calm.

  “I felt something yank at my hair! And hard!” Lady Silvia, fuming and a bit embarrassed, quickly ran to what remained of the hunk of hair, picked it up and quickly headed for the exit. “You’ll pay for this. You two are despicable and you disgust me,” she shouted.

  As she bellowed that last insult, I saw the six ladies from earlier before. As Lady Silvia shook her fist and roared in our direction, Mary the silver-haired leader of the group, grabbed her by the shoulders and started pushing her away from the storefront.

  Vanessa and I exchanged a glance as we hurried to the front of the shop.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Mary shouted.

  “Don’t you interfere,” Lady Silvia spat. “You don’t know how despicable and disgusting this pair is.”

  “Oh, we know all about how your type thinks, and we’re not standing for it. Get out of here, or we’ll call the police. Hell, we’ll call GLAAD and rain hell down on your bony ass.” Mary was firm. Heck, she scared me, and she was defending us.

  “What? Do you know what these two are up to?” Lady Silvia asked, clearly confused.

  “We sure do, and we are tired of people like you telling us how to live our lives. Get out. Get your hateful, ignorant, judgmental self out of here!”

  Lady Silvia’s mouth dropped open. She quickly clamped it closed and stared at Vanessa and me in round-eyed shock. She then looked at Mary and her five friends before collecting herself and retreating down the street, darting her eyes in our direction from time to time.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Mary said, moving to stand in front of us and setting her hands on my shoulders.

  “Um, yeah, we’re good. Thank you,” I said, speechless.

  “We clearly came out of that fudge shop just in time,” Mary continued. “Now you girls are young, and you’ll run into those kinds of attitudes from time to time. Sadly, I fear that will never go away, but hold on to each other, and stick with your community. Divided, they can’t break us. And you have our email and cell phone numbers in your guest book. If you ever need help or even just a sympathetic ear, just give any of us a call.”

  With that, she gave each of us a warm hug, and her five friends followed in suit. Soon we were waving goodbye to them as they sauntered up the street.

  “You know, Vanessa. Things usually get a bit boring after Labor Day, but not this year.”

  “Definitely not.”

  5

  Not long after Vanessa returned to Thingamajigs, my mother paid me a visit. I was sure she was ready to regale me with tales of her trip to Las Vegas.

  I had just come out from the back with a can of air freshener in an effort to contain the burnt hair stink.

  As soon as she crossed the threshold she grimaced and sniffed the air with disgust. She blinked furiously, her false eyelashes fluttering like little black wings. “What’s that smell? It’s like someone lit a match to … plastic?”

  “Lady Silvia was in here,” I replied, spraying freshener around.

  “Oh. Did she lean into a lit candle and then her boobs caught fire?”

  I smirked. “No. She got mad and came at me. Then Dad’s ghost popped up and tugged her hair. A hunk came loose.”

  “Loose?” Her eyebrows raised. “That doesn’t smell like burnt hair. Oh wait,” she paused. “That’s fake, too?”

  “Yup. Dad looked mortified and flung it like he’d picked up a turd.” I chuckled, savoring the visual.

  “Can he move items? I didn’t think ghosts could do that, unless they were poltergeists.”

  “I didn’t either. He said he’s learned how to do it with small objects from time to time.

  “That’s an interesting development.”

  “Definitely. I see you’re back from Vegas,” I said, before her parental jealousy could rear its head. “How was your trip?”

  She glanced around, opening her pack of Marlboros, fingers hovering over the cigarettes. “Are you sure I can’t smoke in here? You have candles burning in the shop. That’s a fire hazard right there, but they’ll burn up my smoke. And my smoke will help cover up that burnt chemical stink Lady Silvia left behind.”

  “Mom, it’s against the law. I’ve told you that before. And if a customer walks in and doesn’t like the smell of cigarette smoke, I could risk losing sales. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  “Oh all right. It’s just chilly outside – Vegas was so warm in comparison – and I don’t want to smoke out there.”

  “You could try vaping,” I suggested.

  “Eh, I tried one of those once. I didn’t like it.” She put away the pack with ill humor. “Speaking of pests like that fake psychic, what was your father doing here? Has he been bothering you again?”

  “No,” I sighed. (Changing the subject to Vegas clearly hadn’t worked.) “He was just paying a visit.”

  “Again? You see him all the time.”

  “I haven’t seen him in weeks. And it’s not like he’s getting all my attention.”

>   “You’re sure? I could look up exorcisms for you, if you’d like. You know I’m good at getting rid of people no one wants around.”

  “Dad’s a spirit, and he just pops in from time to time and never stays long. If it makes you feel any better, let’s say he has a healthy respect for your powers and determination.”

  She smiled like a cat sighting a potential kill. “Is he here now?” she asked, looking around. “I don’t sense anything.”

  I turned to where he was hovering, and sure enough, he’d disappeared. Twenty years apart from my mother – even though she was the one who filed for divorce – wasn’t enough on some days. He’d told me that often enough.

  “He left a few moments ago when Lady Silvia’s hair blazed up. Maybe the burnt plastic exorcised him. How was Vegas?”

  “I could whip up some kind of banishment,” she pressed. “I’ve had luck with those before.”

  I knew what she was talking about.

  When I was in high school we had a neighbor who had taken a liking to me. That wouldn’t have been so bad had he been my age, but in this case he was in his forties. The admiration was not mutual, for obvious reasons.

  Mr. Creepy would come around whenever I was outside, and offer to drive me places, or invite me to come visit him because he wanted to show me something. The usual polite hints that someone had worn out his welcome – “I’m tired,” “I have homework” and “I have a headache” – didn’t sink in. For some reason, telling him “you need to go” never crossed my mind. For women, being that direct is sometimes hard to muster.

  His attentions unnerved me. Possibly even more so because I didn’t have my father around any longer. I griped to my mother that I wished this neighbor would leave me alone. She winked and told me she’d take care of the matter.

  At the time she had been collecting old chicken bones, holey stones (which are basically stones with natural holes in them, and they’re powerful protection talismans) and feathers, and stashing them on top of the fridge. I had tried to toss them away repeatedly, but she never would let me. She never gave me a reason why she saved them.