“Mo, where is your mom?”
“She is getting ready for our celebration. Isn’t it great? Mommy is all better now.”
“It’s the best news I’ve heard since your mother woke-up. How’s the homework going?” I asked as I tried to look over Mo’s shoulder.
“I don’t like homework,” Mo declared.
“Nobody likes homework, but it is something we all have to do. Let me know if you need help,” I gave my daughter a kiss on the top of her head, “I am going to get ready for our celebration.” In my bedroom, I could hear the shower going. Closing and locking the bedroom door behind me, I quickly stripped down to my birthday suit and tried to quietly open the bathroom door. If I can slip into the shower with Charlene, I thought I could be of service and scrub her back and maybe she could scrub my… The door was locked. Char has never locked the bathroom door before. Obviously, she wanted a private shower. Putting on my robe, I patiently waited for my turn with the shower. Soon enough she came out all wrapped up with her robe around her body and a towel wrapped around her hair. It made me wonder. In all the time since the terrible day of my failure, I have not beheld the glory of her unadorned figure.
“Nathan, the shower is all yours. I left you enough hot water if you’re not too slow about it.”
“Thanks,” I took a sadly uneventful shower and finished getting ready. I came out to the living room, and the doorbell rang. “Who could that be?”
“I asked my dad to join us for the celebration,” Char said as she walked to the front door and opened it.
I heard the sounds of welcome as John came in along with his familiar blessing, “God bless this house and all who live here.” Charlene took Moiraine to finish her hair before we went to dinner and I remained standing at the door with Char’s father. We shook hands in greeting. His hand was twisted and bent from the arthritis his chosen profession, woodworking, had given him. John was beginning to get up there in age, too. He had survived the Korean War. He is a man from this nation’s greatest generation. After the war, he came home to marry and have a family. Gone was the unspoken sorrow that used to follow him around like a debt collector. He stood straighter than he had in the recent past. The brief visits he had with the ghost of his dead wife had renewed him. Calling her ghost up for him could be a little uncomfortable. He tended to act like a teenager mooning over the first girl who set his heart a beating. It is little enough to give the father of my wife, but more than my wife, he gave me a gift of knowledge. He showed me a man could be decent, kind, and strong. He lived his life doing what is right as he saw it. He raised a daughter by himself in a time when most men would have found a new woman to be the mother to their child. I have great respect for this man. Though he is only a little taller than Charlene, he is a giant in my eyes. His gray hair, which is cut close, was only evident on the sides of his head. The atoll of remaining follicles was shrinking in the ever-increasing ocean of scalp. “I thought you had plans for only you and Charlene tonight, my boy.”
“Well, Char decided the whole family should celebrate her clean bill of health.”
John tried to hide a smile as he said, “Both her mother and she have a knack for turning a man’s plan on its ear.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“Now John, it isn’t polite to mock the dead,” the spirit of Marlene Gustafson, John’s deceased wife, said as she took form out of the ether. She was dressed in her nurse’s outfit. She had died on her way home from work in a car accident when Charlene was about Mo’s age. The ghost who stood before us was of a height and figure of Charlene. She had chestnut hair she wore up in a bun under the nurse’s hat, and her peepers were like Moiraine’s color shifting hazel ones. It is a little uncomfortable having a mother-in-law nearly as hot as my wife.
“Nathan, you should warn a man before you summon the ghost of his wife up.” The smile on John’s face lit the room. The smile becomes broader every time I have summoned Marlene for him. John turned from his wife and looked at me, “I thought I could only see her if you were touching me.”
“True anywhere but here. For some reason, spirits can appear in my home without being called.” I bowed to Marlene, and she smiled back at me. “Charlene and her mother have been having a grand old time learning about each other these last few days since my active role is no longer needed.”
“Grandma!” Moiraine exclaimed as she came running up to Marlene. “Daddy, Daddy, touch me I want to hug Grandma.” I put my hand on Mo, and she gave her Grandma a big hug and kiss.
“Whoa, whoa, hold on there. She can touch her grandma?” John asked.
“Sorry John. I should have told you I discovered I can help people interact with ghosts. It’s a bit of a strain,” as I said it, I felt a slight head rush coming on. I let go of Moiraine, and her arms immediately passed through her Grandma.
“Daddy, I wasn’t done yet,” Mo pouted.
Marlene put her ghostly hand on Mo’s cheek. She held it so close it seemed to be touching Moiraine. “Mo, you know your daddy can only help for a short time before he starts to feel sick.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. Do you want me to get you something to eat to make you feel better?” The concern in her voice was genuine and touching.
“No honey, I’m okay,” I pulled a tube of glucose tabs out of my pocket. I have taken to carrying some on me at all times. Popping a couple tabs is a quick way to raise my blood sugar. Fainting from low blood sugar is so inconvenient.
“Nathan, son, would you let me touch my wife?” Tears welled up in John’s eyes.
I popped another glucose tab, “Sure John, but do you want to torture yourself that way?” John nodded yes, so I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder.
John took hold of his wife’s ghostly hand. He gasped at the touch. The tears were flowing full force. John said, “I’ve missed your touch so much,” Marlene leaned in and gave her husband a kiss. It looked to be a very tender kiss. I hope John doesn’t want me to help him do anything more with his wife. The process would be awkward, and it might be illegal in some parts of this country. Marlene ended the kiss and leaned away and said, “We shouldn’t touch anymore John. It hurts to have you for so brief a time,” she vanished with sadness in her expression. I released John’s shoulder, and immediately he began wiping away his tears.
Moiraine ran out of the room for a minute and quickly came back with a box of tissues, “Here you go, Grandpa. Don’t be sad.”
“Bug, these are tears of joy. It has been a little while since your grandma gave me some sugar. I tell you it wasn’t enough. I want some more sugar. Give me a kiss, Bug,” John scooped up Moraine in his arms and gave her a kiss and a squeeze. John finished wiping his tears and announced in a happy tone, “How long does a man have to wait before we start this party?”
“You’re right, John. Let’s get this party started,” Suddenly in my head, a song played “I’m comin’ up so you better get this party started…” After a moment of Pink’s song, I commanded my internal iPod to shut down. Opening the front door, we all made our way to the car for the trip to the restaurant where a good time was had by all. At the end of the evening, John and I started to argue over the check.
“Nathan, I am going to pay for this, and you aren’t going to stop me. I’m only spending Charlene’s inheritance anyways,” he said with a smile. But something in his tone struck me odd.
When we returned home after our night of indulgence, John insisted on carrying Moiraine into the house and her bed. The poor girl became so tired by the end of the evening she had fallen asleep in the car during the drive back.
We all said our goodbyes at the door. John started for his car, I said, “Hold on, John, let me walk you out,” I closed the front door behind me, and we walked in silence to his car. John got in his car and tried to close the door, but I held it open. “John, are you okay? You seem to be acting a little out of character.”
“No, son. I just got my sense knocked around kissin’ my dead wife.”
My dreams were disjointed and chaotic. I used a bit of concentration to lift myself out of the dream world. Standing in my bedroom, I looked down at my wife. Watching her rest peacefully, I wondered, Do I dare? Why not? I asked myself. “Charlene, I would love for you to join me here in this realm. A fuzzy shimmering glowed around her body. Her spirit-self lifted out of her body and stood there in front of me.
“Nathan, is everything okay? Is Moiraine having another nightmare?”
“No Char, she is sleeping well. A little time alone here in the kingdom of half-fantasy, half-reality sounded like a plan to me.” I willed us to Point Loma near the lighthouse.
Charlene gasped, “Nathan, warn me before you send us traveling.” Char slowly turned around and took it all in, “Oh, it’s so beautiful here. All the lights of the city and harbor are so pretty. I don’t understand, Nathan, is this reality or are we in a dream?”
“We are here in the real world.” Reaching over to my wife, I took her hand. It feels different than when we are in the waking world but it is still filled with love. It is a warm sensation like the first time we held hands. I slowly pulled Charlene toward me and into my arms. I leaned down and kissed my wife. She hesitated, but she soon lost all reluctance and gave herself fully to the kiss. Whispering in her ear, I said, “Char, I want you. I want you now and every day.” Her passion ignited, and she pulled me even closer. Feverishly, we kissed. I willed our nightclothes to evaporate. Stopping the kiss and stepping back I took in the view of my wife in the pureness of her form. As she realized we were naked, she instinctively tried to cover herself with her hands. Anger filled her face.
“Nathan, stop it. Give me back my clothes!”
As I willed us back in our pajamas, I asked, “What’s wrong, Char? It has been so long since we have been together. I know you didn’t want to make love in the real world, but why can’t we in this realm of dreams?”
“No means no. Take us back home. I need my sleep.” She crossed her arms high on her body blocking my view. With only a half thought we returned to our bedroom. “Put me back in my body and bother me no further tonight.” I dismissed her from this dream-like world, then I returned to my own body.
My eyes opened instantly. After that little jaunt, food was what I hungered for, so I slipped out of our bed. The kitchen called. I searched for something quick. It didn’t matter what. In the dark of my living room, I sat and ate. “Idiot,” I proclaimed to myself. The only other sound was my chewing. When I finished my nosh, I reclined my chair and fell to sleep.
Chapter Three
I woke up to giggly singing in my ear and finger tapping on my forehead, from my daughter, “Wake up! Wake up, you sleepy head! See Daddy, it’s not fun, is it?” My eyes opened to see my daughter grinning ear to ear. “Mommy says to get up,” Mo ran into her bedroom.
Does she ever walk from room to room?
After standing up from the recliner, I shuffled to my bedroom to make ready for the day. I have work today, so it will be as entertaining as a barrel of monkeys. Not! Char had put a pot of oatmeal on the stove, so I ate a hearty bowlful to warm my body and fill my gut. After taking my lunch from the place Char puts it, I headed for the door. “Okay people, I’m out of here.”
I heard my daughter’s feet running toward me, “Huggies. Kissies. Kissies. Huggies.”
Sweeping her up in my arms, I gave her a giant hug and kiss. Char walked up to say goodbye, too. I tried to give her a kiss goodbye also, but she offered only her cheek. My heart sank. Six months of a lukewarm shoulder is getting old. She must need more time. After setting Mo down, I walked out the door and toward the bus stop. My taking the bus to work gives Charlene the use of the car. But every few weeks I take the car to work for a wash, gratis. The moment I stepped off the bus my mental iPod kicked in with, “because I got them steadily depressin’, low down, mind messin’, workin’ at the car wash blues.”
It’s bad enough I have a sucky job. Do you have to mock me about it with music from Jim Croce?” I thought to the disc jockey of K R A P my personal mental radio station with unlimited access to every song I have ever heard. It answered me with, “It’s what I do. Oh yeah!” Tell me why does he sound remarkably like the Duff Beer Guy from The Simpsons?
It was a busy day at the car wash. The weather report forecast a long stretch of sunshine, so everyone was having their car washed. I worked as a floater doing tasks such as vacuuming cars to working inside the lounge as a cashier to manning the suds sprayer. I worked anywhere an extra body was needed. The floater job broke-up the day. Besides, moving from station to station kept me from feeling like a robot. At about two hours from closing the owner, Mr. Benson, told me to stop by the office after work.
The crew shut down the carwash and did all the closing chores, such as cleaning the bathrooms, sweeping and mopping the lounge, and anything else to make the carwash ready for tomorrow. We also split up the contents of the tip box. It wasn’t a fortune, but the extra cash helps my family make it to payday. There are a lot of burdens you can ease with positive cash flow. What a blessing it is to have the cash to pick-up whatnots before you head home. We have had to cut back on all the nonessentials. I would consider selling my soul to the Devil for a Diet Pepsi. The cravings gnawed at me badly. This is probably the right time to get that monkey off my back, but I like monkeys.
Carlos and I are always the last ones to clock out. Carlos is of an age close to mine, though he showed more grays than I. His hair is thinner too. This Hispanic gentleman has dark skin made darker by years of working in the sun. He is a kind and decent man. He has been working here at the carwash years longer than anyone. Carlos made me feel welcomed to his crew. The rest of the workers kept mostly to themselves. Making friends wasn’t easy since most of the other workers didn’t accept me at first. Carlos, on the other hand, made me a part of his crew from the first day. He took me under his wing and showed me the ropes. Keeping ropes under your wing does seem awkward to me, but who am I to judge? Granted, there is not a whole lot to washing cars, but he made sure I knew everything I needed to know.
One day during lunch break Carlos confided in me, “I wasn’t sure you’d work out. I’ve never worked with a man like you…”
“A white man?” I smiled.
“… Yes, who is willing to work his fair share. You know, willing to get his hands dirty.”
“Or wet?”
Carlos chuckled a bit, “Or wet.”
“My friend, there are more of us white folk out there willing to do their fair share than you think. It’s you only remember the a-holes.” We both laughed. It has always been my belief a strong work ethic is important. My mother instilled that in me. I heard her many times say, “There is pride in any work so long as it’s legal, moral, and nonfattening.” While sitting there eating our lunches, I inhaled an intoxicating whiff of some fine Mexican food. “Say Carlos, do I smell a tamale?”
“Oh yes, it is. My wife, she makes the best tamale. Her chicken is my favorite. It was my daughter’s birthday yesterday and we had leftovers. I don’t always eat so good for lunch. Don’t tell my wife, but I hid this one.”
Knocking on the open door of the office, I waited to be invited in. “Come on in, Nate. Have a seat.” Mr. Benson stood up and moved to the filing cabinet in his office. He pulled out some papers, sat back down at his desk, and straightened the papers by tapping their sides on his desk. Seated at his desk Mr. Benson is larger than the average man, a bit taller than myself, and his well-toned arms betrayed upper body strength. His gym membership is paying off for him. The full head of hair on this man was slicked back with some greasy-kid-stuff. It gave his dull black hair a wet look. He was wearing one of the blue work shirts and black pant uniforms we all wear
here. The uniform is clean, of course. Obviously, he never worked the line. In fact, the only job I have witnessed him doing in my entire tenure here is taking the money. Begrudging the man is not my style, but I believe he would see a little more enthusiasm from his employees if he grabbed a towel and dried a car or two. “Thanks for staying late. Good news is in the wind for you, Nate”
“Good news. What is it?” I asked.
“I’m promoting you to manager trainee. Starting tomorrow I want you to work with me exclusively in the cashier window, the lounge, and here in the office. Once you have the knack of things, I will promote you to full manager and you will be running the whole operation. I’m promoting myself to general manager slash owner. I will be traveling back and forth from here to the other carwash.”
“Other carwash? I thought you only own the one.”
“I’m expanding, Nate. My new location is in National City. You will run this one and I will run the new carwash.”
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I have only been here about five months.” I knew the exact number of days, but I have found most people, really all people, get a little miffed at my perfect memory. “Wouldn’t you want to promote someone who has been here longer? Someone like Carlos, for example; he has been here for over five years. He showed me the ropes,” again with the ropes. “Everything I know about the carwash biz I learned from Carlos. In my opinion, he would make a fine manager.”
The Calling Page 3
