Slow Dance in Purgatory

by Amy Harmon

  “I kept patting her cheeks and shaking her, trying to wake her up. She was sleeping so deeply. I said to her over and over, “Miss Margaret, tell old Gus what’s wrong. Wake up, child.” She didn’t even stir. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to wake her up. I thought I could probably carry her, but it was a long way to the truck, and I needed her to wake up so I could make sure she was okay.” Gus paused then, just for a moment, and with a deep breath he waded back in.

  “All of a sudden, she kind of sat up, almost like somebody was helpin’ her. It was the strangest thing. She just kind of eased up, eyes still closed. Then she said something, and it was loud and clear. I know I didn’t misunderstand.” Gus stopped short and looked at Irene.

  “What? Did she tell you what had happened?” Irene’s eyes were wide, her hands clenched in her lap.

  “No. She just said one word. She said….Johnny.”

  “Johnny? What’s that supposed to mean, Gus? Who’s John…” Irene’s voice faded off as she realized who Johnny was. “Gus! That’s crazy.”

  “Shad and I both heard her say it. It scared the boy. He was shaking like a leaf. That reminds me…” Gus scratched his head, as if realizing something for the first time. “Shad was giving Miss Margaret a hard time about something the other day, saying something about going steady or some such nonsense. Asking if that’s how they did it in the ‘50s.”

  “Did what?” Irene was completely bewildered.

  “Shad was teasing Miss Margaret about a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t understand what you are insinuating, Gus.” Irene was starting to get frustrated. Gus was growing agitated as well, but not for the same reason. He stood and began to pace the floor, still worrying his worn hat brim.

  “Shad and I were able to get Miss Margaret up, and I asked her if she had the keys to the car. She kind of pointed towards the ladies’ locker room, and I sent Shad off after her things. She was pretty disoriented and shaky. I helped her along and just as we were about to the doors, she said his name again…Johnny.”

  “This is bizarre!” Irene cried, her hands trembling again.

  “I kind of felt strange, like someone was watching – you know the feeling – and I glanced over my shoulder as I held the door for Miss Margaret….and…I saw him. He was standing there, watching us.”

  “Who??”

  “Johnny Kinross. It was him, clear as day. He looked….terrible…just terrible.”

  “Terrible how?” Irene had an image of a skeletal face peering out from a hooded black robe or a red-eyed demon sneaking up on her defenseless niece.

  “There was so much sorrow in his face. I’ve never seen such a sad face.”

  “What does this all mean, Gus?” Irene asked softly, believing her friend and wishing she didn’t.

  “Tell me, Miss Honeycutt, has Miss Margaret ever mentioned seeing…ghosts?”

  “Goodness, no!” Irene huffed. “She’s the most down-to-earth girl I know...“ Irene’s voice trailed off. Her eyes grew thoughtful, and she tipped her head slightly as if remembering something from long ago.

  “My younger sister, Lizzie, Maggie’s grandma, used to tell me the strangest stories when she was a girl. At least I thought they were stories….” Irene lost herself in the past once more. After a moment she resumed speaking.

  “She wasn’t very old when our mother died – maybe five or six. The women in our family haven’t had much luck in life.” Irene’s brave little smile cracked around the edges. “Early death, very few children, difficult marriages – or maybe I should say difficult marriages, very few children, early death.” Irene laughed humorlessly at herself.

  “Anyway, Elizabeth, my little sister, came into my room about a week after my mother died. I was about thirteen at the time. Lizzie was crying and saying she wanted Momma. I tried to comfort her, but she kept insisting Momma was in the kitchen, but that she wouldn’t talk to her. It was so strange. I had forgotten all about that.” Irene looked up at Gus, a perplexed frown on her face. He had stopped pacing and was listening intently.

  “There were several other times Lizzie claimed to see our mother, always doing mundane things. Except for once, when Elizabeth was nine and fell out of her tree house and broke her leg. She told me Momma had waited with her until our nanny found her.

  “Our grandfather passed away not long after that. I remember because Lizzie’s leg was still in a cast. We pushed her around in this awful wheelchair for months. After the funeral, we went to our grandfather’s home for the wake. Lizzie started laughing and pulling on my skirt. She pointed to the rocking chair my grandfather always sat in and said, “He’s not dead Reney. He’s right there! Daddy was teasing us!” My father was not amused. In fact, he punished Lizzie pretty severely. After that, I don’t remember her ever claiming to see someone who wasn’t there. At the time, I thought she had just grown out of it….but maybe she just stopped telling us.”

  Gus moved to where Irene was perched, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. “Miss Irene, I think we need to consider that maybe your sister saw ghosts, and her granddaughter, our Margaret, does as well.”

  “You think Johnny frightened her in some way….frightened her enough that she….what? Spent the entire night in a haunted school? That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t she run shrieking for home?”

  “I don’t know what happened, but I think it is more in line with romance than with haunting,” Gus suggested gently.

  “She’s…. in love…. with a ghost?”

  “That’d be my guess, yeah. And he’s in love with her.”

  ***

  Shad crept up the stairs to Maggie’s room, trying not to alert the adults below that he was there. Both Irene and Gus were old fashioned farts who thought young men should never set foot in the bedrooms of young ladies. How then, was a young man supposed to see his sick lady friend? Shad thought he could be in and out before the old folks even knew he was there. The last he heard, they were in a deep discussion.

  Irene had helped Maggie into bed, and then Grandpa Gus had kicked Shad out of the living room so he could talk to Maggie’s aunt privately. He wondered what he was telling her. He didn’t know if Maggie had said anything on the way home; Grandpa had given Shad the keys to his old truck and told him to follow behind him and Maggie in the car. Apparently, Gus hadn’t trusted Maggie to drive. Under different circumstances, Shad would have been thrilled to drive solo, but the pleasure of the rare privilege had been ruined by his worry for Maggie. He had stayed close to his grandpa and driven to Maggie’s without incident. Not too bad for a fourteen-year-old.

  He pushed Maggie’s bedroom door open very slowly and poked his head through the opening. Maggie’s hair was tumbled across her pillows, and her eyes were closed. She lay very still but Shad could tell she was faking it.

  “Oh look! I have found my Sleeping Beauty!” Shad said in his most manly, Prince Charming voice. He gave himself an English accent, too. “I must kiss her sweet lips and awaken her from her deep, deep sleep.”

  Shad approached the bed. Maggie didn’t even flinch.

  “Here I come, sweet maiden. I have slain the dragon and wish to take you from this cold, lonely tower. Ahhhh, my princess! Your lips are as red as the rose, your skin as white as snow – actually I like my skin a little browner, but hey, you’re workin’ it – and your hair like the darkest ebony.” Shad broke into a little imitation of Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder singing Ebony and Ivory as he leaned over his unresponsive audience. He didn’t know very many of the words, so he resumed speaking in his princely voice.

  “Here I go, fair lady! Prince Shadrach will now lay a fiery kiss upon your soft lips….” Shad got within an inch of Maggie’s mouth before her hand shot up and covered his puckered lips.

  “Don’t even think about it, Shadrach Jasper.”

  “Gotcha,” Shad replied, smirking. He pushed Maggie’s legs aside and sat down on the bed. He gave Maggie a thorough once-over. She stared back, her face pale, her eyes dull and dark
ly circled.

  “You’re not lookin’ so good, Sleeping Beauty. We might have to start callin’ you Sleeping Not-so-fine if you don’t snap out of it.

  “Thanks, Shad. I’ll definitely call you the next time I’m down so you can kick me twice as hard.”

  “Just sayin,’” Shad shrugged. “So are you gonna tell me what the hell happened at Haunted Honeyville High?”

  “No.”

  “That’s it? Just…no?”

  “That’s it. No.”

  Maggie and Shad stared at each other, neither of them blinking. Shad was the first to look away, sighing in exasperation.

  “Fine, Mags. But tell me this. Do I need to kick somebody’s ass? Because you know I will. If somebody hurt you or did you wrong in any way, I’m kickin’ some ass.”

  Maggie felt a surge of love for her fierce little friend. He would probably end up getting the crap beat out of him in the process, but she had no doubt he would pick a fight with Zeus if it meant defending her.

  “Thank you, Shad. You really are a super hero.” Maggie smiled at him affectionately. “But no. No butt kickings necessary.”

  Maggie was saved from further testosterone displays by a light tapping on the door. Irene slipped her head around the door and, seeing Shad, frowned at him and pursed her lips. She didn’t comment on his trespass.

  “Oops. Busted.” Shad grimaced.

  “May we come in, dear?”

  Irene and Gus entered Maggie’s suddenly crowded room. Shad tried to make a hasty escape, but Gus cuffed him lightly on the back of the head and said, “You’re already here, you may as well stay.”

  “I may as well,” Shad agreed, rubbing his head.

  Irene sat on Maggie’s other side, and Gus perched stiffly on her window seat, clearly uncomfortable in her feminine little room. He shot the proverbial hairy eyeball at his grandson, and Shad quickly removed himself from Maggie’s bed and sat meekly on the chair next to her closet.

  “I’m glad you’re awake, Maggie. Gus and I would like to ask you a few questions,” Irene said kindly.

  Maggie stiffened and closed her eyes for a moment, as if waiting for the hammer to drop from somewhere over her head and crush her. She had been in this position before. Her well-meaning, and sometimes not so well-meaning, foster parents telling her it was time to move on, or telling her it just wasn’t working out, or telling her it wasn’t her, it was them. All of it, crap. She had never argued or pled her case. She had always packed and did as she was told. But this time she had let her guard down. She had thought she was home…with family.

  Maggie opened her eyes and looked at her aunt. Irene reached for her hand. Maggie tensed but didn’t pull away. She recognized this part, too, but couldn’t bring herself to do anything that might hurt her aunt, even at her own expense. She loved Irene.

  “What happened at the school, Maggie?” Irene prodded, holding her gaze.

  Maggie was prepared with her response. She would stick to the truth, but she would edit. A lot.

  “It was a date dance last night. I shouldn’t have had to go, but the dance captain seems to like torturing me. I just felt really bad. When the dance was over, I started crying. I ended up sitting in the hallway. I was exhausted; it had been a really long day.” Maggie looked at her aunt and Gus, knowing they could confirm at least that. They both nodded encouragingly.

  “There are vents right there, and it was warm. I fell asleep. I’m sorry you had to come looking for me. Way to ruin a perfectly good Saturday morning, huh?”

  Irene tossed a loaded look towards Gus. He straightened and approached Maggie’s bed. She twisted her yellow polka dotted comforter nervously between her fingers. Irene squeezed her hand, and Maggie felt her eyes prick with tears. Would Irene really send her away?

  “I didn’t mean to cause trouble, Aunt Irene,” Maggie blurted out before Gus could even say anything. “I have really tried to be good. I know I screwed up, but if you’ll give me one more chance, I would really like to stay here with you.” Maggie silently cursed the weak tears that spilled over, wondering how it was possible that she had any more tears left to cry. After last night, she thought she would never cry again.

  “Maggie! My sweet girl!” Irene held a hand to her heart as if to steady its beat. “Of course you’re staying with me. I waited this long for you. I’m never going to let you go.”

  “Miss Margaret, nobody is angry with you,” Gus chimed in. “We love you. We’re just worried, is all. We thought something terrible had happened to you.”

  “Nope,” Maggie smiled wanly. “I’m just fine –“ Her lips trembled a little, and she tucked them between her teeth, nodding. Her right hand resumed twisting yellow polka dots.

  “Miss Margaret,” Gus entreated her gently. “You said Johnny’s name this morning. Can you tell me about that?”

  Maggie’s heart turned to ice, and her belly was filled with snakes. “I must have dreamed about him,” She offered softly. It was the truth. She hadn’t lied yet.

  “I saw him, Margaret.”

  Maggie’s eyes flew to his, and her right hand ceased its incessant twisting.

  “He watched us as we left. I think he was worried about you.”

  Maggie’s heart melted a few degrees, but the snakes still hissed.

  “Did you see him, too?” Gus persisted.

  “No,” Maggie choked out. Again, the truth.

  “But you have seen him, haven’t you?” Gus was relentless.

  “Yes.”

  There was an audible gasp from both Irene and Shad, and Gus shook his head like he almost didn’t believe it himself.

  “How often?” Gus asked gently.

  “All the time,” Maggie whispered. She searched their faces desperately, beseeching them with her eyes. She never would have admitted even that much if Gus hadn’t confessed to seeing him, too.

  “Have you talked to him? Has he….talked to you?” Gus sank down next to Irene on the bed. Maggie hugged her knees to her chest to clear some space. Her knees provided a barrier between her and the hovering adults. She leaned her forehead against her steepled legs and wondered how much she was willing to reveal.

  “He’s very alone.” Maggie lifted her head and met Gus’s steady gaze. She would talk to him. He would believe her. “He’s been there for a long, long time. We’ve become friends….” She couldn’t continue. The pain was a writhing, churning hole in her chest, and it consumed her ability to speak.

  Gus seemed at a loss for words as well. He simply sat, staring off, pondering what she had revealed. The stillness in the room was stifling. Maggie buried her face in her arms.

  Irene suddenly shook herself briskly and, leaning forward, she grasped Maggie’s face in her hands, forcing her to look at her. Irene’s blue eyes were wide with worry and something close to fear.

  “Maggie? Tell us what to do for you…and for….Johnny.” Irene choked on his name, like she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how I can help.”

  Maggie placed her hands over her aunt’s and with considerable effort spoke the final, inescapable truth.

  “That’s just it. You can’t help. I can’t help. No one can.”

  “Surely….there’s something?” Irene let her hands fall from Maggie’s cheeks, and she shook her head helplessly.

  “I love you, Aunt Irene. But…. please, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I will be okay. I don’t want you to worry….I’m just so tired.”

  Maggie wouldn’t talk about it anymore. Surprisingly, talking about Johnny was strangely cathartic, but it also illuminated the impossibility of the situation and made her despair all the more complete. A big part of her didn’t want to explain -- even to the people she loved. Trying to put her feelings into words cheapened them, reducing her relationship with Johnny to some kind of tawdry carnival side show. She gently pulled away from her aunt and sank down in her bed. Her eyes fluttered closed, effectively shutting out further conversation.

  Ir
ene stared down at her niece for a moment and then rose from the bed. She smoothed Maggie’s blankets up over her thin shoulders. Her loving tenderness had Maggie fighting emotion all over again, and the tears threatened to leak out from under her closed lids.

  “Let’s leave her alone now,” Irene sighed, herding Gus and Shad from the room. Maggie didn’t watch them leave, but she heard the door click behind them and the stairs groan with their departure. They hadn’t banished her to some far corner of the world or to some mental institution. Aunt Irene had said she wouldn’t let her go; she said she loved her. Maggie still had a home. The relief was almost as sharp as her agony.

  ***

  Nobody saw Shad take the key sitting on Maggie’s little desk in her room. He had seen it when he’d been relegated to the corner chair during Maggie’s interrogation. He had known immediately what it belonged to, and almost as immediately he had begun to form a plan. He rationalized his theft by telling himself that if Maggie had a key then by all rights, so should he. Plus, he would return it. Maybe.

  He made an excuse to Grandpa Gus about needing some time alone or some such garbage. Grandpa nodded and waved him off. Shad climbed on his bike and began peddling hard for the scene of the crime. He knew Grandpa Gus and Miss Honeycutt were just going to wring their hands and mutter and worry, but he was actually going to do something about this whole crazy mess Maggie had gotten herself into. His heart pounded in his chest as different gory and violent scenarios played out in his head. He must be crazy for what he was about to do. Could ghosts kill people? It looked like he was about to find out.

  When he threw his bike down by the side entrance door, he didn’t give himself a chance to think or chicken out. He slipped the key into the lock and entered the school like a man with a mission. He adopted his George Jefferson swagger, just to give himself a little confidence. He strutted angrily up and down the halls for a few minutes before it occurred to him that he might not be able to see the ghost. Maggie seemed to be able to – and Grandpa Gus, too. Maybe Maggie had super powers she wasn’t even aware of. Seeing ghosts was a power he would gladly do without. Plus, it didn’t matter if he could see Maggie’s foggy lover-boy. He had a message to deliver, and he would deliver it loud and clear.