The blind date was her first date in a long time. I prayed it wouldn't drag us back, kicking and screaming, into teenage girl relationship hell and hoped that if it did, we'd all come out of it alive.
If this Mike boy wasn't like Chandler and was a Valedictorian in high school, I hoped Emily toned down the use of the word like when she was with him. It made her sound like a tween and was like, annoying.
"Boo," Ma said, popping up beside me.
I waved my hand in her face. "So doesn't work anymore."
"I got so few opportunities for fun and the ones I do, you gotta ruin. Your brothers, they wouldn't do that ya know."
"My brothers wouldn't do that because they can't see you."
"That's not the point."
"Uh huh."
"So you want I should go and check this boy out?"
I rubbed my chin with the palm of my hand. "I have to trust her to make the right decisions."
"You do."
"I mean, she's not a little girl anymore."
"Not with those boobs, that's for sure."
I gave her the stink eye. "And she's been doing really well lately, you know?"
"Yep."
"She said this boy's not like Chandler."
"Chandler was a twat."
"Yup."
"Chandler was crabs on a twat."
I flinched. "Yuck." Suddenly, I felt an itch down there.
"If the shoe fits."
"I should trust her."
"You should. Like I trusted you."
I coughed. "But I'm a little curious about how he looks. You know, if he's cute or not."
"Yah, me too."
"And if you went to see what he looked like, it wouldn't be like you were checking up on her or anything."
"Who me? I wouldn't even look at her. Just check him out, to you know, see if he's a hottie or not."
"Yeah. That's not me not trusting her, right?"
"Heck no." She tilted her head. "Well?"
"Hey, I can't stop you from checking out your granddaughter's blind date. It's not like you'd listen to me anyway."
"Damn straight," Ma said and then she shimmered away.
"Don't take too long," I yelled.
***
I did my best thinking on my deck, so instead of watching that show about tree houses that Jake and Josh gaped at, mouths hanging open in awe, in the family room, I headed out to the deck with my dog, Gracie and a glass of Riesling. Okay, so I brought out the whole bottle, but whatever. Sometimes wine helped me focus and I needed to focus on the boy, and at least try to contact him again. I wanted to talk to the girl too, but since Aaron needed to know the boy's identity, I felt obligated to help him first. "Hello dead kid in the hospital morgue? You around?"
"Yah, that's the way to get a spirit to talk to ya," Ma said, popping in over the fire pit.
"I'm tryin' to focus here."
"You wanna hear about this Mike kid or no?"
"Oh, yeah." I leaned toward the pit. "Is he cute?"
She nodded several times. "He's a hottie all right. Don't go no tattoos or nothin' and either he's got an iron and knows how to use it or his mom still does his clothes for him because he was dressed all nice and proper."
"Did he seem nice?"
"All's you wanted was for me to check his looks, remember?"
I sulked. "Yeah, but I just thought, maybe you stuck around for a bit to see how he acted."
"I sure did. And he ain't a bad kid. Said please and thank you and even opened the door for her. He's probably gay and just don't know it yet. The gays got better fashion sense than the rest of 'em, ya know?"
I dropped my chin to my chest. "Good Lord. You'd probably be all over the news if you were still alive."
"Whadda ya mean?"
"The way you talk? It's so politically incorrect. People don't talk like that now. It's offensive to a lot of people."
"That politically correct stuff is a bunch a crap." She flicked her hand in the air. "People gotta stop bein' so sensitive. Back in my day we said what we thought and if someone didn't like it, that was just too damn bad."
"That's not how it works today."
"Yah, and that's why spirits like me got so much work to do. All you ninnies don't say what you think and the world's fallin' apart. Seems stupid, you ask me."
I didn't have time for a deep philosophical talk. "Ma, I appreciate you checking out Mike for me, but I really gotta try and contact this kid. Do you think we could talk later?"
She flicked her hand in the air. "Your brothers, John and Paul wouldn't push me out the door like that. They would let me stay all night if I wanted, but fine. Be that way." She stuck her tongue out at me and shimmered away. I knew she wasn't mad though, because as she shimmered, I heard her laugh.
I sipped my wine and worked to concentrate on the boy. "Okay," I said out loud. I wasn't very good at contacting spirits, and though my psychic teacher and friend Linda, had taught me techniques to establish a connection and keep myself safe from potentially harmful entities, I never did it right. Like I said, patience wasn't a virtue I possessed. I closed my eyes and focused on the boy in the hospital morgue. "Here's the deal. I know you want me to focus on the girl and I'm going to, I promise, but first I need you to tell me who you are and what happened to you so I can help my friend Aaron." I waited a minute, but nothing happened. "Pretty please? With sugar on top?"
The hairs on my arms stood and a burst of cold air shot past me. I opened my eyes and saw the boy hovering in front of the fire pit. His face wasn't broken, but his eyes were angry. "I said I got this."
"I heard you the first time, but I can't help the girl if you don't help me." I leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs. "So how we play this is up to you."
"Man, that ain't right. I to' you I got this, ain't nothin' you can do for me now anyway. I dead."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that when I saw your body in the morgue."
He hovered closer. "So why you gotta be all up in my face then? I to' you to help da fizzle."
Teenaged ghosts with attitudes annoyed me. "Listen kid, you might have talked to your mother like that, but that doesn't work with me. You want me to help the girl then you'll do it my way. Capiche?"
He shot into the air and then dropped back down. I didn't lift my head to watch. I was scared, but knew if I showed fear, he'd win and I wasn't going to let that happen or I'd lose any shot at gaining his respect.
He hovered so close to my face I thought I felt his breath. "Don't be talkin' no smack 'bout my momma."
I kept my eyes focused on his, and didn't blink.
"I said you gotta help that dame!" The anger in him flew out in sparks, like little lightning bugs lighting up the night. I'd never seen anything like it.
"First you, then her." I pressed my hands into the arms of the chair to keep them from shaking.
"Man, that ain't right." He spun in circles and when he stopped, his anger had softened. "You can't help me."
"But I can help your family. They need to know you're gone. You didn't have any ID on you. They may not even know you're dead. Don't you think they'd want to know?"
He didn't say anything, just stared at me.
"Tell me who you are so your family can bury you."
He stayed silent.
"I'm waiting."
"I can't help you."
"You can't, or you won't?"
"I can't."
"Why not? Because you jumped? Because you're embarrassed? Ashamed? That doesn't matter now. What matters is giving the people who love you closure. At least let them have some peace, even if you can't have it yourself."
"Man, doncha git it? It ain't that. I can't help 'cause I can't remember."
"Can't remember what? What happened? You jumped off a bridge. That's what happened."
He shook his head. "You don't git it."
"Well, obviously I don't, so why don't you explain it to me?"
"I can't tell you who I am 'cause I don't know." He threw
his hands in the air. "And I don't know what happened to me either. You git it?"
My chin dropped. "Oh, I…I didn't know."
"You do now," he said, and then shimmered away.
"Crap." I ran my hand through my hair. "Crap. Crap. Crap."
Jake walked out and sat in the chair near me. "What are you crapping about?"
I guzzled the rest of the Riesling in my glass, refilled it, and sipped some more. "This boy that Aaron's trying to identify."
"Okay."
"We don't know who he is."
"And?"
"It's complicated."
"I get that you don't know who the boy is, and it's making you crap multiple times. Doesn't sound all that complicated."
"You're funny." I lied.
"Try explaining it and maybe I can help."
So I did.
"This doesn't happen often, a ghost not knowing who they are, right?"
"First time I've come across it. Sometimes they're a little confused, but usually that goes away pretty quick. This kid though, he hasn't moved past the confused part. And he's angry, too."
"So what are you gonna do?"
"No clue. Whadda you suggest?"
He was silent for a moment and then said, "I don't have a clue either."
"You're not helpful."
He stood, walked behind my chair, and massaged my shoulders. I leaned my head back into his stomach. "Have you talked to Linda or Fran?"
I shook my head. "Nope. I'll talk to my mom but I'm trying to cut the umbilical cord with Linda. She can't be my babysitter forever." I flinched from the pressure of his thumb pushing into my neck. "Ouch, not so hard."
He eased up, and I pushed forward, grabbing my cell off of the fire pit. "I'm texting Aaron to see if he's found out anything."
"He's probably done something to identify the kid by now and just hasn't had a chance to tell you."
Aaron responded quickly, saying they hadn't yet identified the boy.
"Guess it's time to call in the celestial super spy," I said.
"It's worth a shot."
My shoulders slumped. "He's got a mother. She must be worried about her son. You'd think she'd have gone to the police or something."
"Maybe she hasn't realized he's missing yet."
"How does a parent not know their kid is missing?"
"Maybe he was staying with friends? Or his parents are divorced and he's supposed to be at his dad's? You know it's possible she's not that involved with her kid too, right?"
"I know, but I'm hoping that's not the case."
Jake bent down in front of me, caressing my face with his hand. "You'll figure out who the boy is eventually, and I'm sure you'll be able to help his mother."
"I hope so." I cupped his hand with mine. "He jumped off a bridge. I can't even begin to imagine how lost and alone he must have felt to do something like that. Losing a child is already hard, but finding out they committed suicide? The guilt from that would be horrible." I swallowed the rest of the wine in my glass and asked him to hand me the bottle.
"You've finished half of it already. You sure you want the rest?"
I took the bottle from him and drank straight from it. "I'm tired of kids dying."
We sat out on the deck for another hour talking about nothing important. It was late, and I knew he was ready for bed when he stretched his arms above his head and yawned. "I'm going to bed. Unless you want me to stay up with you?"
I shook my head. "No, it's okay. Go ahead. I'll be up shortly."
He kissed my forehead. "Love you."
"Love you, too." I took another swig of wine from the bottle, fully intent on numbing my frustrations.
"Ah Madone, you're gonna end up a lush if ya keep that up," Ma said.
I held the bottle up. "To Betty Ford!"
"Oh dee, this ain't good."
"The boy doesn't know who he is." I noticed I'd slurred my words a bit.
"Huh?"
"The boy. The one who jumped off the bridge? He doesn't know who he is. Says he can't remember." I filled her in on the details.
"That happens. Tragic deaths are a bear on the soul sometimes, and until they can work through stuff, they don't remember. He'll come around, give him time."
"Matthew Clough remembered and he was murdered."
"I said sometimes it happens, not always. Just be patient."
"I'm my mother's daughter. I don't have any patience."
"You don't gotta be rude."
I burped. "Truth hurts don't it?"
"I got lots a patience now that I'm gonna be a spirit guide, so put a fork in it."
I laughed. "Yeah, patience is oozing outta you."
She pushed her shoulders back. "Glad you noticed."
I put the wine bottle down and twisted my ponytail around my finger. "The boy wants me to help the girl, but I'm stuck on that one, too."
"What girl? She jump with him?"
"No." I filled her in on the girl in the white gown. "Something's funny about her. She's not like the other spirits I've seen."
"Probably 'cause she's a teenager. All that drama screws up their energy." She waved a hand in the air. "Gives me agita just thinkin' about it. Must have something to do with all them hormones they got at that age. Does something wonky to them, ya know?"
I rolled my eyes. "First of all, you're dead so you can't get agita. And I'm guessin' hormones do stay with spirits. Doesn't seem to be an issue with you so…"
"Those things died off long before I kicked the bucket, so I don't got them now. It's called the change. Ya know, that thing you're goin' through right now, Miss Pain in the Patoochie."
I gave her my death stare.
"Oh my. Looks like you're heading into the angry stage of the change now. Might wanna warn the kids."
She got the same face again and I prepared a wine-induced verbal assault but, luckily for her, Jake came back down and opened the door to the deck. I waved my hand behind my head to acknowledge him. "I'll be up in a minute. I'm talking to my mom."
It was Emily, not Jake, who'd opened the door to the deck. "Uh, Mom? Like, Grandma's dead, you know," she said.
Ma bobbed her head up and down in silent laughter. "Whoops. Just let the cat outta the bag didn't ya?"
I swiveled in my chair to face my daughter. "She is? Then who's that?" I pointed to my mother, whose eyes were the size of salad plates.
Emily sat in the chair next to me, eyeing the nearly empty bottle of wine. "Uh, did you like, drink that all by yourself?"
"Maybe."
"I think you're like, hallucinating because you're drunk."
A loud fart that sounded like an old bicycle horn escaped me and I couldn't help but laugh. "Whoops. 'Cuse me."
"You're like, definitely drunk. You never do that."
"I'm not drunk. I'm tipsy. There's a difference. I think."
"Are you okay?"
The worry on her face sobered me some. "I'm fine. Rough day at the office."
She scrunched her eyebrows together. "You don't have a job."
"I'm a mother and a wife." I waved my arm at my house behind me. "That's my office right there and all you people in it are my jobs." I put the bottle on the fire pit. "So how was the date?"
She leaned back in the chair and moaned. "Amazeballs."
"Define amazeballs, please."
Ma chimed in. "It means awesome and gnarly."
My mother, the Dead Queen of Out of Touch.
"It was like, great." She held her phone screen up. "And see, I'm home like, before curfew."
"He musta forgot the rubber," Ma said.
"Please, stop," I said.
"Stop what?" Emily asked.
"Stop shining that light in my face. It's bright." I glanced up at my mother, hoping she knew I was really talking to her.
"Sorry," Emily said.
I put my hand on her knee. "No, I'm sorry. I'm a little cranky and I took it out on you. So tell me about your date and this boy. No tattoos still, right?"
"If you come home with a skull tattooed on any part of your body you're grounded for life."
"How about something else? Like maybe a naked hula dancer? Will I be grounded if I like, come home with that?"
"You can get all the tattoos you want when you move out and are supporting yourself financially, and as long as I never see them. Unless it's of me, then I wanna see it."
"My plan is to have your face like, tattooed all over my body. It's every girl's dream to have their mother with them all the time."
"That's a great idea," I kidded. "So you gonna tell me about this boy and the date or what?"
Her face lit up almost as bright as her phone had earlier. "He's really nice. He like, opened the door for me and even helped me out of the car. Like, who does that? It's so old school."
"A real man," Ma said.
"A real man," I repeated. "It's not old school. That's what they're supposed to do. It's called respect and good manners."
"Yeah, well people my age don't like, have those."
"So I've seen. So where'd you go?"
"To that new pizza place off of exit thirteen. It was good, too. They have like, Chicago style pizza, so you'd love it."
"Did they have deep dish?"
"Yup. That's what we got. I only had like, one piece though. It's a lotta food and it like, was kinda strange eating in front of him."
My mouth watered at the thought of a deep dish Chicago-style pizza. The metro Atlanta area lacked good pizza joints and the typical franchised places didn't please my palate the way a heartburn-inducing, cheesy mess of bread dough, sausage, and sauce from Chicago did. "I miss Chicago pizza."
"I miss coffee," Ma said.
I lifted the side of my mouth in acknowledgement. I got my coffee addiction from my mother and couldn't imagine spending eternity without it either. "So you really like this guy?" I asked Emily.
Her lips curved into a half-mooned smile. "I think so."
After we over-analyzed every aspect of their date, I understood Emily's excitement. This boy, normal-named-Mike, was just that. Normal. Well, either he was normal—which seemed unique when it came to her generation, or he was a psychopath pretending to be normal. I hoped for the first, and didn't mention the second.
Uncharted Territory (An Angela Panther Mystery Book 3) Page 5
