by E. C. Bell
“Nothing,” she said. “Looks like he’s a fine, upstanding citizen. But there has to be a reason why you warned me about him. What is it?”
“It’s—Well, it’s because—” My voice trailed off as I tried to think. What was I going to tell her? The truth? I didn’t think I could do that, because telling her that could be dangerous to my continued existence at the diamond.
“He’s an old guy who’s been hanging around the diamonds forever,” I said, all in a rush. “Maybe his daughter did play ball once upon a time, but not for years now. I—I just don’t trust him. He creeps me out.”
Surprisingly, Marie laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped. “I wasn’t trying. To be funny, I mean.”
“It’s just I don’t hear many ghosts talking about being creeped out by the living,” she said. “You know?”
“Maybe they are, and just don’t tell you,” I said, archly. “A lot of you are bad, you know.”
Her laughter stopped. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.” She turned and looked me right in the eye. “Did you know that Andy guy when you were alive?”
I stared at her, wondering for a second if she had the capacity to read minds. “Why—why would you ask that?” I finally asked.
She didn’t answer. Just stared at me like she was looking into my soul, until I turned away, unable to stand her awful gaze any longer.
“You’re not going to answer, are you?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I’m not. Leave me alone.”
“Then,” she said. “At least tell me where your body is buried.”
I glanced at second base, then jerked my eyes back to her face. “I’m not telling you that either. Leave me alone.”
“Your family needs to know what happened to you.”
“I gotta get ready for my game,” I said, and walked away from her and her steel grey eyes that looked like they were trying to catch me. In a trap. In a lie.
I felt her staring after me until finally, finally, she turned away, walked to the bleachers, and sat beside her coach.
For a while, she said nothing, and I thought she was going to chicken out about asking Greg for help. Then, she began speaking. Barely looking at him, but speaking, none the less. Greg’s face went from impassive to excited. He nodded and nodded, and then began talking himself, so quickly Marie couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She finally quit trying and just sat there listening as he obviously took whatever free time she had and turned it into practice time.
IT STARTED TO rain as we were playing our game, but a little rain never stopped us before, and it didn’t this time either. It came down harder and harder as the evening turned to night. Our game finished. My team lost, four to ten, and I made five errors.
Mr. Middleton asked if I was okay, so I lied and said I was fine. Just a little distracted by the rain. I don’t think he believed me but it didn’t matter. Soon enough everyone was gone, and I stood in the rain, just back of second base, and wondered where they all went. Wondered if I’d ask them where they went when they came back. Was pretty certain I wouldn’t. It felt like an imposition. Like I’d be prying into their private deaths.
But that didn’t stop me from wondering, as the rain fell around me—through me—in hard, driving, sheets.
Karen:
The Nightmare
THE NIGHTMARE WASN’T like the ones I used to have, with frightening regularity, just after my death. This one rolled out, inexorably, in real time. And it wouldn’t stop, no matter how much I wanted it to. It just wouldn’t stop.
I was on my last date.
I’d met him when I was working at the coffee shop at the University of Alberta. He was a student, he was nice, and I liked him. So, when he followed me from the University to the Coffee Factory on Ninety-Ninth Street, I just thought he’d taken a shine to me, and took it as a compliment. That was when he asked me out the first time. I said yes.
He told me he was married after we’d gone out for three months. He took me to a restaurant that night, a nice one, and then told me his dirty little secret. Probably hoped that I wouldn’t cause a scene, and he was right. I made him take me back to my little basement suite before I started crying and told him we were through.
“Let me come in,” he said. “So we can talk about this.”
Stupid me, I let him in. Made him a coffee while he told me he was going to leave his wife, because he didn’t love her anymore. “I love you,” he said. “Just wait a few months, and I’ll be free. And then, I’m all yours.”
After he told me that, I quit crying. He drank his coffee and then we ended up in bed.
He was married, and I knew it, and we ended up in bed.
When he finally left, I felt sick and decided that the next time I spoke to him I’d do the right thing and break it off. But I didn’t. When he called and asked me to go to the movies with him, I said yes.
For some reason, I said yes.
We went to the Twin, a drive-in on the north side of town. It had just opened for the summer, and two movies were playing that night. Badlands and Amarcord. Badlands played first, and it got him all jazzed up.
“I’m Martin Sheen and you’re Sissy Spacek,” he said. He pulled me into his arms. “Who do you want me to kill for you?”
“I don’t want you to kill anybody,” I said. “Jesus. You do realize that they’re actors just playing characters in the movie, right?”
“Of course I do.” He sounded hurt. “I just think it would be cool, being that free.”
“Can’t we watch the movie?” I asked. “Please?”
I tried to move to the other side of the car, but he wouldn’t let me go. Pulled me even closer, and then grabbed my hand and rubbed it against his crotch. He had an erection.
“Touch me,” he said. His voice was rough.
“No,” I said. “I want to watch the movie.”
But he insisted. Wouldn’t let my hand go. Undid his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs. Then my hand was on him and he was hot. Throbbing and hot.
“Screw me,” he whispered. “I gotta blanket in the back. No one would know.”
“No,” I said. But I couldn’t seem to stop stroking him. Feeling the heat and the throb. All for me, if I wanted it.
He reached under my skirt. Grabbed my panties and I heard them rip.
“Don’t,” I whispered. “I like this pair.”
“Take them off, then,” he said. “Hurry.”
I looked around at the other cars, to make sure no one was watching us. No one was. It was like we were on our own little island. No one would know. So I did.
He touched me between my legs and I gasped. “We can do it here in the front seat,” he whispered. “Right here.”
“But—” I looked around again, but he shook his head and grabbed me by the waist. He pulled me around so I was on my knees on the bench seat, facing him, and he hiked my skirt even higher.
“Fuck me,” he said. “Right now.”
The crude word cooled me. Not all the way, but enough so at least I could think. I shook my head to stop him, but he grabbed me hard between the legs and I groaned again. Before I knew what was happening he’d pulled me onto his lap. And then he was inside me and I rode him as the final credits rolled.
After, he offered to get me some more popcorn, because we’d knocked the box over, but I said no. Just pulled my ripped panties on and sat staring at the screen as the next movie started. Amacord, a Fellini film about Italy after the war.
I wanted to travel to Italy. And France. And Columbia. All over. The movie was weird, and my panties were ripped and wet, and I felt sick about what we’d done. And then I was crying, and he woke up, gave me a hug, and said he’d take me home.
“But let’s eat first,” he said.
I didn’t answer him, because I’d turned into a huddled ball of self-loathing, but he didn’t notice. He drove me across town to the Saratoga Restaurant.
“Order anything,” he said. “Anything at all
.”
I had a Pepsi, and he ordered a burger and fries. “I’m starving,” he said, and winked at me. “A good workout will do that.”
We were silent as he ate. He didn’t even seem to care that I wasn’t talking. Just tucked into his food, a half grin on his face the whole time. When his plate was empty he pushed it away.
“Can you take me home now, please?” I asked. “I’m really tired.”
“In a bit,” he said. “I have something I want to show you.” He threw some bills on the table and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the booth. “Something I’ve been working on. You’ll love it.”
He drove out of the Saratoga parking lot and back onto Highway Two, the moon huge and full in the sky above us. As he headed back into town I wished I’d worn my watch—my almost new wristwatch that my parents had bought for me for my last birthday—because I had no idea what time it was, and it was starting to bother me. I had to call my parents first thing in the morning, to apologize for the scene I’d caused the evening before. I needed to make up to my mom for wrecking her birthday party, but I had to call early enough to catch her in. If I slept in, my plans would be ruined.
Besides, I didn’t want to be in this car with this man—this married man—anymore.
“I’d rather go home,” I said. “It’s really getting late.”
“Early, you mean,” he laughed and grabbed my leg, pulling me closer to him across the bench seat of the Rambler. “It won’t take long. I just want to show you something I’ve been working on.”
He turned off the highway and headed east. I couldn’t figure out where we were.
“I really want you to take me home,” I said. “I have a lot to do tomorrow . . . ”
He squeezed my thigh, hard, and shook his head. “I’ll get you home,” he said. “After I show you what I want to show you. Come on, be a good sport and do this for me. Didn’t I show you a good time tonight?”
Thinking about the evening made me want to cry again, but all I said was, “Yes. You did,” because I didn’t want to fight with him. I just wanted to get home.
“All right then,” he said. He pointed ahead at something in the dark. I couldn’t tell what it was. “We’re here,” he said. “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
He turned into what looked like an open field. The headlights flashed over a tractor and some other equipment, none of which I recognized.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“At the ball diamonds,” he said. “The ones I’ve been working on, for the city. They’re almost finished. I want you to see them, up close and personal.”
He parked the car and shut off the engine. He got out, then stuck his hand inside and wiggled his fingers at me. I wasn’t getting out of this, no matter how tired and heartsick I was. I took his hand and let him pull me out of the driver’s side.
“See?” he said, and pointed. “Doesn’t it look great?”
My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I looked at the ball diamond. I hoped that if I went along with him maybe I’d make it home before the sun came up.
It actually did look nice. I looked around and saw there were more, behind us. “How many diamonds are there?” I asked.
“One baseball diamond and four softball,” he said. “We just put in the lights.”
“Lights? On a ball diamond?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Three of them will have lights. It’s all top shelf.”
“Wow,” I said, and walked to the fence surrounding the baseball diamond. “It looks really nice.”
“Told you,” he said. He led me away from the baseball diamond, but instead of going back to the car, he led me down a small path to the other diamonds. I followed him. Just a few more minutes, I thought. Then I can go home.
He stopped in front of the next diamond, and I stared at it.
“It doesn’t look as finished as the first one,” I said.
“It isn’t,” he replied. “The city wanted the baseball diamond finished first. But it won’t be long before these are done.” He pointed. “You can see the lights, and the bleachers. We just have to finish levelling the diamonds and putting the grass in the outfield, and they’ll be done too. Quick as a wink.”
The infield was nothing more than earth and sand. I couldn’t imagine it looking any different than it did. But he could.
He looked excited and happy as he pointed at the spot where second base would be. “There were some problems with drainage. We had to tear this one up three times to get it right.” He laughed, and pulled me through an opening in the fence so that we were walking on what would be the infield, whenever they finished it. “You know what they say, though. Third time’s the charm.”
“Yeah,” I said. It was eerily pretty in the moonlight, and I shivered.
“You cold?” he asked. I nodded, and he pulled me into his arms. “I got a way to warm you up.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. I tried to pull free, but he grabbed me harder.
“Come on,” he said. “We had a good time, right?”
“Right,” I said. I tried again to pull free, but he wouldn’t let me go. He wouldn’t let me go, and I felt the first hints of anger. Not fear. Not yet. “We did have a good time. But I have to go home. The evening’s over.”
“No,” he said, and laughed. “No, I think you owe me a little more for this evening. Right here, under the stars. It was fun in the car, but this time I want to make you scream. And no one will hear you all the way out here.”
And then, finally, I reached the end of my rope.
“Let go of me,” I said. “And take me home right now. You hear me?”
I pulled away from him as hard as I could and broke free. I turned on the heel of my ridiculous platform sandals and stomped away from him. I was determined to get back to the safety and warmth of the car and then make him take me home.
It was getting easier and easier to imagine telling him we were through for real this time. He was acting like a jerk. His wife could have him. I was done.
“Don’t you walk away from me!” he said. His voice sounded rough, and a twinge of fear wound its way into my anger. But not enough. Not by a long shot.
“I’m tired of this,” I said. “I want to go, now. Take me home, or I’ll calling your wife and tell her the truth about you. I really will.”
I don’t know why I said that, truly I don’t. I knew it would make him angry, but I guess I hoped it would scare him, too. Scare him enough to finally, finally, do the right thing. But it didn’t.
“No!” he roared, enraged. “You are not talking to Dianna. You’re not telling her anything!” And then, he was after me.
Finally, I was more afraid than angry, and I ran.
My big plan was to get to the car, lock all the doors, and wait for him to cool off so he could give me that ride home he’d promised me. But my stupid sandals put paid to that idea.
I tripped and fell, and as I scrabbled around in the broken earth and sand, trying to regain my footing, he caught me.
And then that date that I never should have gone on turned into my last.
I saw his enraged face, his hands reaching for my throat. And then I was choking. I tried kicking him, scratching him, anything to get him to let me go. Let me breathe. But he was so big and so strong it was over before it truly started.
And then, I was dead.
I FLOATED ABOVE our bodies as he grabbed and groped me and pulled at my clothes, whispering that he was going to leave his wife, I just had to trust him. That’s why he’d gotten angry, because I was acting like I didn’t trust him.
“Just put out a little bit more, baby, and all will be forgiven,” he said. Then, his hands stilled as he looked—really looked—at my dead face.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, and tried, more or less successfully, to pull my clothing back into place on my dead body. “What the hell?”
I would have screamed “You killed me you bastard!” if I’d known I could do that, but I didn’t. Just f
loated and floated, watching as he freaked out and scrabbled back to the fence and through, running to his car. I thought he’d left me for someone else to find. But no, he came back with the blanket from the back seat of the Rambler and a shovel.
He dug a pit, just behind what was going to be second base. He sobbed and snivelled as he dug, and then, carefully rolled my body in the blanket, making sure he covered my face. He grabbed a big roll of thick plastic, and rolled me in it, too.
Entombed me in plastic.
Then, he dropped my body in the hole he’d dug and filled it.
Entombed me in dirt.
He even started the tractor and flattened out the top of my grave until it looked the same as the rest of the unfinished diamond. And then, as the sun finally edged its way up over the horizon, he ran to his car and drove away. He left me there, sitting on the unfinished bleachers at an unfinished softball diamond, all by myself.
WHEN I CAME to after the nightmare, I was standing right where I’d been buried, so many years before. Just behind second base. The rain had stopped, and the diamond had drained perfectly, as usual. It looked perfect. Pristine.
First, I cried. Then I screamed until my voice was gone. But no-one heard me, of course. Because there was no one there that could.
It had been a long time since I’d even thought about my death. For a second, I wanted to blame Marie for stirring all these old feelings up again, but stopped that crap quick.
I couldn’t blame her. All she did was ask questions. I was the one who’d never done anything about what had happened to me. I’d just built up walls to make certain that no one knew my terrible secret. That I’d screwed a married man, even after I knew he was married, and then he’d killed me.
I felt like throwing up when I thought about all the girls who had stopped coming to the diamond after they met him. Had he hurt them? Killed them? I didn’t know.
But I did know he had to be stopped.
“I’ve paid enough,” I whispered. “Now, it’s Andrew Westwood’s turn.”
