by T. L. Ingham
Chapter Three
If my mother noticed anything strange in my behavior, she didn't say a thing about it. Instead, while the latest ghost to cross my path stood glaring at me from only a few feet away, my mother snatched up the flowers and left the room, offering to put them in water.
The ghost, a young black woman somewhere in the neighborhood of her early twenties, was dressed in a fringed suede miniskirt, a bright yellow blouse with flowing sleeves and a deep V-neck, and thigh high platform boots. She was all the rage in the seventies. As was her hair. She was sporting one of the biggest afros I'd ever seen. She looked like she should be in Central Park swinging her arms about in an arcing motion and calling for the sun to shine in.
"Cicily?"
"Cecilia!" she snapped, her eyes crackling. "Damn that woman! She don't listen to a word her husband says to her, so why in the hell does she even bother talkin' to him?"
"Sorry."
"Don't go apologizin' for her; you got enough on your own to apologize for."
I was stunned. "Me? What did I do?"
"Did you say something, dear?" My mother returned with the flowers she had artfully arranged in a vase.
"Just talking to myself," I said even as Cecilia was saying, "Just so you know, I'm done tip-toein' around you. I was hopin' you'd go away on your own, and for awhile there it was lookin' like someone was gonna help you. But now I see it ain't the way at all, so there's gonna be hell to pay!" With that, she popped out, but not without leaving a little destruction behind. Even as she disappeared, the vase exploded in my mother's hands, spraying water and glass everywhere.
"What the-!" My mother jumped back, shocked.
I lurched out of the bed, how I thought I could possibly assist her I don't know, I only know that it was instinctual to go to her aid. Naturally, I stepped on a piece of glass in my bare feet.
I was hopping about the room with blood spurting from my foot and shouting, "Ow, ow, ow!" while my mother was chasing me around trying to pluck the offending piece of glass from my heel. Chaos at its best. Naturally that was the perfect time for Jase to arrive.
"What in the hell?" he demanded before quickly taking charge. Scooping me into his arms, (no mean feat- I am not a petite person) he tossed me onto the bed. "You, stay there." Then turning to my mother he said, "Is there a shampooer, or a shop vac, or something around here?"
"Not that I've seen. Just a regular vacuum. But with all this water, that won't do. I'll check with Pia at the main house."
Jase nodded then turned back to me. "I can't leave you alone for one second, can I?"
"Hey, this was not my fault!"
"It never is," he sighed, as he sat on the side of the bed. "Let me see."
I sat as still as I could while he gingerly worked at the glass embedded in my heel. "It's in there pretty good."
"I am not going back to the hospital."
"I never said you were."
"Just so we're all clear on that fact."
"Give me a sec," he said and headed into the bathroom.
I couldn't help but to look around me a little apprehensively. Cecilia had made it quite clear that she was like no other ghost I had ever dealt with. She wasn't impotent. She was malevolent. A poltergeist. Maybe Alex had a point when he had suggested another cleansing.
Alex!
Damn him. This was who he had been talking about!
Before I had time to consider the matter further, Jase had returned with a first aid kit and some towels and washcloths. Very gently, he swabbed the area with a wet cloth, then, using the tweezers from the kit, he began the process of removing the glass.
"So what happened?"
"My mother was carrying a vase- ow!"
"Sorry. Go on."
"Some flowers that- ow!"
"Don’t be such a baby."
I frowned. "I'm not being a baby! It hurts!"
"I'm trying to be careful."
"Try harder."
"Anyway, the flowers?"
"The vase just exploded in her hands."
"Huh. That's weird."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"There must have been a fault in the glass. Anyway, who sent you flowers? Should I be jealous?"
"No, Rob- OW!" This time I snatched my foot away. "That's it! You're done!" I examined my heel for any excessive damage.
"There's still another piece in there. Do you want it to fester?"
"Better that, than this torture you're putting me through!"
Jase grabbed my foot and repositioned it on his knee before continuing to forage for the glass. Against my will.
When he was finally done- several agonizing minutes later- he re-cleaned it and bandaged it before finally letting me go.
I snatched my foot back and glared at him, but said nothing.
"Ya big sissy," he said, kissing me on the forehead.
"You try having glass embedded in your foot while some maniacal sadist digs around looking for it like he's excavating for gold!"
"They don't excavate for gold. They excavate for archaeological artifacts. They mine for gold."
I felt my frown deepen. "Semantics."
"There is a difference."
"Fine," I snapped. "Some maniacal sadist was digging around excavating for golden artifacts. Happy now?"
"Yes, thank you." He smirked in a very self-satisfied manner.
I considered kicking him off the bed, but my foot already hurt too much without breaking an ankle, which would be just my luck.
Just then my mother returned with a carpet shampooer, quite possibly saving Jase some sort of bodily injury. (I may have decided against kicking him, but I had still been considering other alternatives.)
Pia was right on her heels, and Gloria was on hers. "Oh, darling! Your lovely flowers!" Pia exclaimed. "What a shame!"
"What the- what happened?" from Gloria.
All conversation ground to a halt while my mother ran the noisy shampooer and Pia and Jase worked at picking up the flowers, most of which were damaged beyond repair.
They had no explanation as to why the petals had blown off of all the delicate blossoms, as if they too had exploded along with the vase, but I had one. And it worried me. Hell, it scared me beyond reason.
No one but me noticed when Gloria bent down and picked up one of the ruined roses. "Cecilia." She said before dropping it once more.
Only one word. But frightening nevertheless.
