Trying To Live With The Dead

by B. L. Brunnemer

  We carried it all out to the truck and piled everything into the small space at the back of the cab. It was completely full of bags. I got into the truck and still couldn’t believe it. I kept looking back at the pile in disbelief. Shopping for me had always been at second hand stores. Even then it was only when something was beyond repair. I had actually liked shopping today, and I was actually starting to look forward to school tomorrow. When Rory pulled into the driveway, a red Ford Focus was parked in one spot of the driveway. Rory sighed.

  “Tara’s home.” He announced as he shut off the car. “Tara might have a fit since I took you shopping. Don’t let it bother you or make you feel bad. Alright?” I nodded before climbing out of the truck. We loaded up our arms with bags and headed in the front door. When we stepped inside Tara was closing the fridge. My cousin was a pretty. Long blonde hair, blue eyes and a sweet face. Too bad the effect was ruined when she opened her mouth as we set the bags down.

  “You took her shopping? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Tara yelled shrilly, making my ears hurt. Damn how did she make her voice that high? I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it around.

  “Damn Tara, nice to see you too.” I never could keep my mouth shut. Tara’s face was pink, her arms crossed over her chest. If looks could kill Rory would be a puddle of bloody pulp on the floor.

  “I asked to go shopping last week, and you said no!” Tara shouted again.

  “Stop screaming Tara.” Rory’s voice was hard and quiet. Tara’s mouth snapped shut. “I’m going to help Lexie take her stuff upstairs. When I come back, we can have a discussion.” Tara huffed before flopping down onto the couch. I took the opportunity to head up the stairs and into my bedroom. Rory followed closely. I put everything on the bed, Rory followed suit. He dug into a bag and pulled out large flat box. He turned and handed it to me. “You are going to need this for homework.” I looked down to find a laptop box in my hands. My mouth dropped, I was stunned. First the clothes. Now a computer? Why the hell was he buying all this stuff? I looked up at him probably still looking like a stranded fish.

  “W-Why?” I stuttered. Rory shrugged.

  “You need to know how to use computers these days. You can’t use mine and I doubt Tara’s going to share.” He told me matter-of-factly before heading for the door.

  “Thank you Rory.” I blurted out my voice full of repressed emotion. Rory waved his hand as he headed down the hall.

  “Anytime Lexie.” I smiled down at the computer box. I was still trying to control my emotions when Tara’s shouting began down stairs. I put the box on the desk and closed my bedroom door. MY bedroom door, I had a bedroom! It's weird the things you get excited about when you’ve lived in a travel trailer for four years. Tara really had a set of lungs on her; I could hear her through the door as I pulled off my leather jacket hung it on the back of the chair. I pushed it out of my mind and began unpacking and putting clothes away. When I was finally done, I stuffed all the plastic bags into one and hung it on the doorknob. I quickly made the bed with my new sheets and comforter. A dark grey comforter with a white geometric pattern, with the teal sheets giving it a pop of color. I liked the way it looked. I tore into the computer box and focused on setting it up. It was an hour later when I heard my name called.

  “Lexie! Dinner!” I shut my new laptop and closed my door behind me. Is it sad how happy I was about a door? I decided I didn’t care if it was. Then I went down stairs. Tara was frowning as she put paper plates onto the table next to a pizza box. Rory grabbed one and served himself. I followed taking three pieces. I didn’t notice it before but I was starving. I was halfway through my first piece when I felt eyes on me. I looked up to find Tara watching me as she cut her pizza with a knife and fork.

  “So Alexis, are you planning on joining any school clubs?” Tara didn’t really sound like she really cared about the answer. I shrugged and swallowed the food in my mouth.

  “What clubs are there?” I asked before taking another bite. Tara smiled slowly.

  “Well I imagine for you; chess club, yearbook, and 4 H of course.” She seemed very pleased with herself. Was Tara trying to insult me or something? I decided to ignore it.

  “Are there any art clubs? Painting?” I tried to make nice with my cousin. Tara raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

  “I don’t think so.” She took another perfect bite.

  “I didn’t know you painted?” Rory asked, finishing off his first piece of pizza.

  “I want to try; I’ve been mostly drawing, and use soft pastels.” I shrugged. “Student level pastels are cheap.” I looked over at Tara watching her chew slowly. Was she still on her first piece of pizza? I got curious.

  “What school activities do you do?” Tara gave me a smile.

  “I’m a cheerleader; I’m also a member of the fashion club and the student council.” Her eyes ran over me before she leaned forward and whispered across the table. “I can help you dress better for tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow at that; wow Tara was rude. I smiled sweetly to her not wanting her to realize she’d just irritated me.

  “No thanks, I know what colors look good on me and I stick to them, besides I’m really not that into fashion.” I explained, picking up my third piece of pizza. “I like my clothes to be comfy and still be able to climb onto the Blazer to check the oil.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rory smile. Tara seemed horrified. I reminded myself I needed to get along with her. “But if there’s a formal dance or something you’ll be the first person I call.” Tara smiled again then continued eating.

  Rory began giving out chores for the week when I felt a familiar chill ran down my neck. I froze, my heart slammed in my chest as my throat closed. I lifted my head slowly. Standing between Tara and Rory was the dead man from earlier today. His clothes looked like they were from the forties I think. His eyes were on me, he knew I saw him. Damn it. Pain ran up my jaw and down my chest.

  “Alexis?” I barely registered Tara’s voice as the man started coming towards me. I held up a hand, palm out and motioned for him to back up. He stopped and stepped back, the relief on his face made my heart ache. When he was far enough back the pain eased, throat loosening. I finally took several deep breaths.

  “Tara go upstairs.” Rory stated calmly his eyes never leaving my face. I shook my head as I was getting to my feet.

  “I’ll take him outside.” I mumbled as I hurried upstairs to get my sketchbook and pastels. I came back down stairs and hurried across the room. I needed to get outside before the ghost decided he wasn’t waiting anymore.

  “What is going on?” Tara asked loudly. I ignored her and headed for the back door.

  “Are you sure you got this?” Rory asked. I kept my focus on getting to the door without the man getting too close. I nodded opening the door and flipping on the back porch light. “You have five minutes and then I’m coming out.” I waved that I understood and shut the door behind me. The dead man stepped out through the wall of the house.

  “I’ll listen but you can’t get too close, it really fucking hurts.” I told him firmly. He nodded emphatically. I led the way away from the house down the small paving stones to the patio furniture that was about 10 feet away from the house. Thankfully the back porch light reached the area, giving me enough light. I sat down in the corner of the patio sofa, crossing my legs under me. I pointed for him to stand near the wicker patio chair across from me. As he walked over, I opened my sketchbook and turned to the first clean page. I opened my box of chalk like pastels before looking up to meet his eyes. “Who are you?” I asked. That was all he needed.

  His name was George McFee. Over the next couple of hours, I listened to him. As I listened to the story of his life, I drew his portrait into my sketchbook. I drew his face. Minus the gash in his throat. It took time; he began talking about his family. His daughter Rose, she was only six when he died. His wife Charlotte and how much he missed her. He’d lived in Brooklyn in the 1920’s and had made the mistake of working with the ma
fia. He told me all the horrible things he did while trying to support his family. Some of it was pretty gruesome. Eventually he went on the run. They caught up to him here. His own boss killed him and left his body in the lake. I ignored that for now. My head was starting to ache, his memories from his life started pouring into my mind. I pushed them aside and focused. I asked if his body had been found. He said it was. He was buried in St Michael cemetery.

  “Do you want to see Rose and Charlotte again?” I kept my voice polite as my head began throbbing in time with my pulse. George pressed his lips together and nodded.

  “Then why are you still here?” I asked feeling wetness dripping onto my upper lip. I needed to help him faster. He was staying too close for too long.

  “I don’t think I’m going to where they are.” He told me honestly, his eyes filling with pain. My own heart ached for him; I could feel how much he wanted to see his family again. I wiped at my nose, blood smearing across my hand.

  “Do you regret the things you did?” I asked gently keeping the urgency from my voice.

  “Yes, more than anything.” I barely heard him over the blood rushing through my ears. I felt more blood dripping from my nose.

  “George, if there is a God. Do you really think he would punish you for something you regret so much?” He was quiet for a while. Just sitting there, not speaking, not moving. I waited trying to be patient as my head throbbed, and nose began to bleed even more. Finally, he nodded. He looked into my eyes and smiled.

  “What’s your name?” I smiled understandingly.

  “Alexis.” He gave me a smile full of joy. I watched as his body disappeared slowly.

  “Thank you Alexis.”

  “You're welcome.” When he was finally gone, I took my first full breath in what felt like forever. I rubbed my hand over my forehead, my head throbbing. Footsteps had me looking up. Rory was there holding out a red handkerchief. I took it gratefully and put it against my nose. Rory took a seat across from me, a strange look on his face. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. My head was killing me and my stomach churned. In short, I felt like shit.

  “I have never seen anything like that.” I brought my head up so I could look at him. He was looking out on the lake. “All the other times I’ve seen were horrible. Claire was always screaming, shaking, blood pouring.” He turned back to me, his eyes meeting mine. “Why was this different?” Claire was my Aunt, she died when she was eight years old.

  “Depends on the ghost, their memories, how close they are to you, if they're angry or not. You have to keep them away from you. They don’t normally try to jump you.” I explained pulling the handkerchief from my face. I picked up my sketchbook and on the facing page, I wrote a large paragraph summing up the life and death of George McFee. His birth year and death year at the bottom of his portrait.

  “How did you learn to do that?” He asked watching my face. I knew that one day he would ask that question. I know I should tell him, but I was exhausted, and I didn’t want to have the long drawn out conversation it would need.

  “I’ll tell you someday.” I began, letting exhaustion into my voice. “Just not today.” Rory met my eyes and gave me an understanding smile. He gestured to the sketchbook in my hands. I handed it over to him without thought.

  “You keep a record of them?” He asked, surprise in his voice. I nodded feeling my heartache.

  “Some of them haven’t been found. I figured someone should remember them.” I looked out over the water, listening to it lap at the dock. “How long have I been out here?” Rory was flipping through my sketchbook as he answered.

  “A couple hours.” I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I turned my mind back to one of my big worries.

  “What did you tell Tara?” Rory sighed closing the book. He raised his head and met my eyes.

  “I told her it was none of her business.” He handed me back my sketchbook before resting his elbows against his knees.

  “How long do you think we can keep it from her?” I really didn’t want to deal with Tara thinking I’m crazy. I’ve done it at school and dealt with it at home. I really didn’t want to go through that again if I could help it.

  “If you want to tell her, tell her. I can’t make that choice for you. But she’s at her Mom’s every other week, it should make it easier.” Rory was right, but I had one big question that nagged at me. If the Sight was always passed down through the women in the family, why didn’t Tara have it?

  “Okay kid, you’ve got school tomorrow. Get up to bed.” I picked up my supplies and headed inside. A light shut off above me drawing my eye. Tara was stepping away from the window. I sighed. Great.

  Chapter 2

  I felt the blade as it sliced across my throat, hot liquid poured down the front of my suit. NO! I couldn’t breathe; everything was getting dark. Terror ripped through me. My Charlotte, my Rose! I was sinking into the dark...

  I woke up gasping, my heart slamming in my chest. Still mostly asleep, I scrambled back until my back hit the wall. Pain knifed through my body stealing my breath waking me up instantly. I froze still gasping. I looked around the room searching for anything in the room. When I found nothing, I took deep breaths trying to calm myself down. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. What the hell had that nightmare been about? I couldn’t remember the details only that my throat was cut before I woke up. I held myself till I could finally calm down. I hate when this happens, George’s death still hung around in the back of my mind. It happened after every ghost I talked to. I ran my hand through my hair and looked at the alarm clock. It was 6 am. I had finally gotten to sleep after midnight, 6 hours of sleep was the best I ever managed. Knowing I wasn’t going back to sleep I got out of bed and headed into the bathroom. Only to find the door shut. I gave a light knock in case the door was only closed.

  “I’m in here!” Tara’s shrill voice was loud through the door. Okay, I’ll wait. I went back to my bedroom, leaving the door open to keep an eye on the door. I made my bed and pulled my clothes together for the day. I folded my PE clothes and stuffed them into my messenger bag along with my new sneakers. Still no Tara, Sighing I headed downstairs in my pajamas and headed to the kitchen. I finished making my lunch, took it upstairs, and put it in my bag. Still no Tara. I looked at the clock it was 6:30, I needed to get in the shower. I grabbed my bathroom kit and walked into the hall. This time I knocked harder on the door. The door opened to Tara, dressed with a makeup brush in her hand. Was she was doing her makeup? Really?

  “I need to take a shower.” I told her calmly. Tara waved her hand at me.

  “Then you need to take one at night; I’m doing my makeup.” She told me her voice condescending. My temper sparked.

  “You can do makeup in your room. I can only shower in there.” I pointed out, managing to keep my voice calm. Tara snorted at me and tried to close the door. Oh hell no. I jammed my shoulder against it hard. Tara lost her grip on the door the momentum slamming it into the wall. She gaped at me. I kept my calm as I walked past her toward the shower. “Now you have a choice Tara.” I dropped my flannel bottoms and underwear. “I’m taking a shower, then I’m going to use the toilet.” I pulled off my shirt dropping it to the floor. I opened the shower and stepped in.

  “You can either stay and continue to do your makeup while I do that. Or you can go into your bedroom to finish.” I turned the hot water on and adjusted till the temperature was right, then turned the shower on. Tara huffed and slammed the door behind her. I smiled, enjoying my little victory. I took a minute to let the water run over my bruises, easing the tightness in my back. Then I washed up quickly, making sure to use Tara’s conditioner on my hair since I didn’t have any of my own yet. I pulled a towel off the glass of the shower before I did my usual morning routine and was back in my room. It took only 10 minutes, not bad. I quickly dried off and grabbed my clothes and got ready. I ended up wearing my favorite pair of blue boot-cut jeans, a grey v-neck long sleeved shirt along with
my usual black army boots. I took the time to pull on my worn black grommet belt. My long curly dark red hair was back in a ponytail reaching my mid back. My heart shaped face I thought was pretty but nothing spectacular. My skin was porcelain pale like most redheads. But my eyes were pretty unusual. My eyes were a mix of dark green and light green, with gold flecks mixed in. Next to my pale skin they really popped. My makeup was natural, only eyeshadow, black eyeliner and mascara. A redhead never left the house without mascara on, or sunscreen. I checked the time as I finished rubbing in the sunscreen. 7:15. Thankfully, I still had time for breakfast. I grabbed my wallet off the desk, tucked it into my back right pocket and my cell phone into my bra for now. I grabbed my black leather jacket, messenger bag, then hurried downstairs. I dumped them on the couch and went over to the kitchen. I was eating a bowl of cereal when Tara showed up. She looked like she just stepped out of a magazine. Her straight blonde hair was down to her shoulders. Her makeup was heavy for my taste, but it was well done. She wore a pink sweater that reached her mid thigh, and black leggings that disappeared into tan knee high lace up boots. She carried a white infinity scarf and a tan leather purse that I swear said Dolce and Gabbana. She went to all this trouble for school? I don’t get it. It’s school, not a photo shoot. I liked to look good, but I wasn’t going to bend over backwards to do it. I went back to my cereal.

  “You’re going to have to park on the street.” Tara broke the silence; I took my bowl and rinsed it out in the sink before turning back to her. Tara’s eyes ran over my clothes, her mouth opened like she wanted to say something. I looked down at my clothes thinking I’d spilled milk on the shirt. Nope clean. I looked back to Tara an eyebrow raised. Tara gave me a tense smile. “The spots in the student lot are assigned at the beginning of the year.” I shrugged. Parking on the street didn’t bother me.