Authors: David Pandolfe
It seemed almost like she knew, but then maybe most dead
kids had bad dreams for the first couple of days. Come to think of it, not
having some bad dreams would be strange. “Yeah, I did have one,” I said.
“Understandable,” Martha said. “Just like in life, we
sometimes have bad dreams between lives as well. Although, you’ll find that
dreams mean more now than they usually did before. Either way, I felt that you
were troubled.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I know that must seem a little strange, but it’s part of
my role here to sense when one of you might need assistance. You can tell me
about your dream if you’d like, but you certainly don’t have to.”
I thought about telling her but at the same time reminded
myself that it was just a dream. I’d just seen Bethany a few hours ago. She was
fine.
I didn’t know quite what to say, so I asked, “Is that
your room at the end of the hall?”
“When I’m needed,” Martha said. “Is there anything I can
do for you? Do you have any questions?”
Actually, I had a million. But I had no idea where to
start.
Martha seemed to sense my confusion. “There’s no rush.
Take your time.”
“We have plenty of it, don’t we?” I remembered how Curtis
had mentioned all those days, years and decades as if all they shared here was
wasted time. I even smirked a little for effect.
Martha hesitated for just a moment, then her face
brightened again. “Well, time is different here as I’m sure you’ve already
noticed. And it’s also different for each person. For some, ten years feels
like a few months. For others, two months feels like two years. Sometimes a
week feels just like a week. There’s a reason for this, of course.”
“What’s the reason?” I expected another vague answer,
along the lines of the answers I’d received so far, but Martha didn’t hesitate.
“Some people need to stay here much longer, while others
don’t stay very long at all in the scheme of things. Each person’s perception
of time shifts accordingly so that their waiting doesn’t seem so long. Usually.
There are also exceptions. For those who remain angry, time passes the most
slowly. Anger is the devil, by the way. Hatred is hell. Just in case you were
wondering.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “Then what’s
heaven?”
“The opposite, of course.”
Something about that made sense to me, but I still felt
confused. “Why do some people stay so much longer than others?”
Martha walked to the window and looked out. For a moment,
I wasn’t sure if she was going to answer my question. Then she turned to face
me again.
“There are many reasons. For some, it’s a matter of being
ready again. For others, it’s a matter of the right circumstances aligning. By
that I mean we often look for others we’ve known and loved before to share our
future lives with. Most of the time, we do. But not always. To put it simply,
sometimes we just need a break. Sometimes we take a break while we’re living,
sometimes we take it while we’re between lives. Either way, there are always
choices to be made.”
“What about you?” I said. “Have you been here long?” I
wondered if she might have shown up here as a kid, like us. Did people age
here?
“Sometimes people choose to stay,” Martha said. “In
Service.”
Each answer called for another question. My mind was
reeling. I was about to ask what she meant by “Service” when someone rapped
loudly on the frame of my open door.
Curtis stuck his head into the room. “Hey, dead kid,
how’s it—” He noticed Martha standing near the window and frowned. “Hello,
Martha.”
Martha smiled. “Hi, Curtis. How are you this morning?”
Until she said that, I hadn’t realized that I must have
slept through to the next day. Or had I? Time here was impossible to figure
out.
“Well, it’s not really morning, is it?” Curtis said. “I
suppose we could pretend it is, if we’re stupid.” He walked toward my bookcase,
turning his back to us as he read the titles.
Martha gestured toward the sunny window as if he could
still see her. “The consensus seems to be that it’s morning,” she said. “It’s
all relative, no matter where you are. You know that, Curtis. Even on Earth,
it’s not morning or night for all people at the same time.”
Curtis kept his back turned but I looked out over the
neighborhood. Once again, I could hear people out there but I couldn’t see
anyone.
“Henry, whenever you’d like to talk, just knock on my
door,” Martha said. “I’ll be here when you need me.”
“And even if you don’t,” Curtis muttered under his
breath. He exhaled loudly. “Is she gone yet?”
I couldn’t believe he was saying this with Martha still
in the room.
“She is, right?” Curtis said.
Curtis was right. When I turned from the window, I saw
that Martha had simply vanished. “Apparently, she’s gone,” I said.
“Apparently?” Curtis turned and grinned. “Look around,
bro. Do you see her?”
“Well, no.”
“Then she’s gone.” He took a step closer. “I know this
place is confusing, but some things hold true, even here. For example, if you
can’t see someone, they’re not in the same space you are. We share the same
reality. That’s a Rule. You guessed it, with a capitol R. You can hear that
somehow, I know. It’s just one of those things.” Curtis flashed his grin again.
“But here’s the deal. There are others who don’t share the same reality as us.
The Rules are different there.”
“Sorry, not sure I’m following exactly.”
“Feel like having some fun?”
“Sure, I guess.” I wasn’t sure where Curtis was going
with this, but couldn’t see any reason not to go along.
“Okay, cool. Let me show you what I’m talking about.
Think about someone you don’t like. Anyone. Doesn’t matter.”
I was about to say I really didn’t dislike anyone all
that much, but then someone came to mind. My brother’s friend, Tommy Balboa.
While all of John’s friends had enjoyed harassing me from time to time, Tommy
had never missed a chance. And while the others had just meant it as goofing
around, Tommy had been more nasty. The kind of kid who’d punch me in the arm or
give me a shove just because no one was looking.
“Got someone in mind?” Curtis seemed to know I did.
I nodded.
“Know where he lives?”
“Sure. He lives over by the high school.”
“Great, then just close your eyes and picture being
there. Simple as that. Go on.”
I closed my eyes and imagined seeing Tommy’s house. I
waited but it didn’t seem like anything was happening.
“Open your eyes,” Curtis said.
We stood on Tommy Balboa’s front lawn, facing his house.
It seemed totally impossible. At the same time, somehow we’d gotten to the
church yesterday. Same deal, I guessed.
Curtis looked around. “What do you know, it really is
morning. Who would have thought? Oh, cool, the cars are in the driveway. I bet
it’s Saturday. Okay, this part’s always entertaining. Come on, let’s check
things out inside.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course. Why, are you scared of getting in trouble?”
Obviously, he had a good point. “But how—”
Curtis looked at me like I was a total idiot, but then he
grinned again. “Follow me.”
When I expected him to somehow open the door, he walked
up the front steps and passed right through it. I climbed the steps, then
stopped. How had he done that? Everything I knew told me it was solid wood. A
door was either open or it was closed. But then Curtis’s arm reached through
and he beckoned me inside with his index finger. I stood there staring at that
door with an arm sticking out of it. After a few seconds, Curtis stuck his head
through too.
“Didn’t you just fall out of a tree the other day without
getting a scratch? Do you really think this door is going to stop you?” “Well,
technically, I was pushed,” I said. But again he did have a point. So, I walked
through the door and we stood together inside Tommy’s house.
“Okay, that was weird,” I said.
“Weirder than what? Drowning? Going to your own funeral?
You really are confused.”
“What are we doing here?” I whispered.
Curtis rolled his eyes. “Speak up.”
I raised my voice just a little. After all, we were
standing in someone else’s house. “Why are we here?”
Curtis cupped his ear. “I can’t hear you! Must be going
deaf! Speak up!”
Right, okay. I got it. But it still felt weird. “What’s
the deal?”
Curtis ignored me and walked through the living room,
then into the kitchen. He opened cabinets and left them open. He poked around
inside the refrigerator. “Wow, lots of food. Wish I could eat on this side.” He
turned to face me. “So, why did you hate this guy?”
I thought of Martha’s words from our conversation
earlier. “Hey, I never said I hated him.”
“Figure of speech. How did he bug you?”
“He picked on me.”
“Well then, now is your chance to pick back. Let’s go
upstairs.” Curtis lifted off the floor and passed through the ceiling, leaving
me standing in the kitchen. About two seconds later, his arm poked through.
Again, the beckoning index finger.
For a moment, I just stood there again, my brain telling
me what Curtis had just done was totally impossible. But it was possible for
us, obviously. So, I kicked off the kitchen floor, passed through the ceiling
and stood next to Curtis in the upstairs hallway. For the record, the whole
walking through walls and flying through ceilings thing was amazingly cool. But
I didn’t have any more time to think about it since, right at that moment, one
of the bedroom doors opened and Mrs. Balboa stepped into the hall. She walked
right past us. Well, technically, she walked through half of Curtis.
Mrs. Balboa rapped on Tommy’s door. “Tommy, it’s time to
get up. Better get moving.”
“I guess that must be Tommy’s room.” Curtis walked
through both Mrs. Balboa and Tommy’s door.
I had absolutely no idea what to do with that at all. I
mean, come on! Again, I saw it happen but how was I supposed to just walk
through another person like she was a shadow or something? At the same time,
now I was standing in the hallway alone and Curtis was on the other side of
that door. Without thinking about it anymore, I closed my eyes and plunged
through her.
A moment later, I opened my eyes again to find myself
standing in Tommy’s room, not sure what to think. As I’d passed through Mrs.
Balboa, I’d actually felt her impatience with her sleeping son.
Curtis grinned. “I admit, that part is kind of weird.
Takes a little getting used to.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
Mrs. Balboa knocked again from her side of the door.
“Tommy? Get up and in the shower!”
We listened as her footsteps faded. Tommy was just waking
up, sitting on the edge of his bed, yawning and stretching.
“As I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, we can be around
people on this side and not be seen. Or heard,” Curtis said. “Kind of cool,
huh?”
I thought back to my dreams about Bethany, thinking how
strange it was that even in my dreams she’d been unable to hear or see me.
Almost as if my brain had already started to accept the fact that I was now
invisible to my family. I wasn’t convinced there was anything cool about it.
But I just said, “Yeah, it’s definitely different.”
“Unless, of course, we want to be seen or heard.
Sometimes, that’s an option.”
“Hang on,” I said. “How is that an option?”
“Most of the time, it isn’t,” Curtis said. “Let’s not
worry about that right now. So, this is the jerk who used to pick on you?”
“That’s him.”
We watched as Tommy got out of bed. He crossed the room
and went to reach for his bathrobe, where it hung from a hook on the back of
his door right next to us. Curtis plucked the bathrobe off the hook. He dangled
it in the air, then dropped it to the floor.
Tommy shook his head in disbelief. “What the—?”
C
urtis laughed and I
did too.
“Watch this.” When Tommy bent to pick up the robe, Curtis
yanked it across the floor.
Tommy jumped back and stood staring, wide-eyed. “No way.”
He looked around the room, then back at the robe. “No freaking way.”
This was too much fun. When Tommy reached for the robe
again, I went to pull it away but my hand passed right through it. A moment
later, Tommy held the robe out at arm’s length, staring at it with his head
cocked to one side.
Curtis burst out laughing, this time at me. “You are like
nowhere near ready to go Manipulator yet.”
I felt my face grow warm. “What does that mean?”
“It means you can’t have any physical effect here. Not
yet. Probably ever. Depends on what kind of talents you have, and there’s no
guaranteeing you have any at all. Not to bum you out or anything but most
don’t. Wait, there he goes.”
Tommy had recovered from his shock enough to place the
robe back on the hook. He stood staring at it for a moment, then opened the
door and walked down the hall in his underwear.
“Somebody please buy that dude some pajama’s,” Curtis
said. “Too scary.”
I couldn’t help laugh. It was just so weird watching
Tommy Balboa walk around that way, having no idea we were there. “Okay, that
was pretty cool.”
“Like we’re done.” Curtis followed after Tommy, so I did
too.
“Tell me we’re not going into the bathroom,” I said.
Curtis shrugged. “After he flushes, of course. What could
be freakier than having ghosts in your bathroom?”
Ghosts?
For some strange reason, a chill went up my spine. But
that creepy feeling made no sense now. After all, that’s what we were. Ghosts.
Curtis didn’t leave me anymore time to think. “Come on.”
He walked through the bathroom door.
Tommy stood at the mirror, poking at the pimples on his
face.
Curtis flashed that grin of his again. “Okay, so Tommy
here has already convinced himself that what he just experienced never
happened. Check it out.”