The Fancy Ladies of New Orleans

“Tori, come quickly. Elizabeth Greco sat at the vanity in the bedroom that she and her sister shared from their childhood until their death.

Victoria hurried into the room. “What are you going on about?”  She stood directly behind Elizabeth and followed her gaze. “Oh…”

Without taking her eyes from the mirror, Victoria tried to join her sister on the vanity bench, but her chenille robe stuck to the flowered velvet tufting. “Move over, Lizzy, there’s room for both of us. What are the beautiful boys doing?”

“Getting ready for a party.”

On the other side of the mirror, Michael and Jack Morelli, who occupied an identical room in the tangible realm, were unaware of the spirit voyeurs. Michael laughed at Jack, who was jumping in circles, tugging his jeans on by the belt loops.

“Looks like the jeans are winning, little brother.”

Jack huffed out a breath. “Gah! I look like a sausage.”

“You couldn’t get into them three weeks ago. Did you think they would get bigger?”

Stung by the perceived admonition, Jack peeled off the denim offenders and tossed them across the room. He sat on the bed, teary-eyed,  thump, thump, thumping his foot against the bedframe. “I can’t go with you, Mikey.”

“Well, I’m not going to my eighteenth birthday party without you.” He sat beside Jack, aware that the jeans were the least of Jack’s uncharacteristically dreary mood. After five years of foster care, Michael was aging out. Jack would remain in the group home.

Jack leaned his head against Michael’s arm. His quiet countenance was louder than the thumping.

Michael nudged him. “Lucky for you, I grew fast, too.”

Jack raised his head.  ‘‘Why is it lucky for me?”

“Because I kept every pair of jeans I ever had. They are in the storage room. Your size must be in there somewhere.”

“Really?”

“Really. Come on. I’ll pull them out for you.”

Jack ran past Michael as they climbed the steps to the third floor.

Victoria and Elizabeth rose through the ceiling to a room identical to the storage room which, unlike them, had survived the hurricane of 1947. They each pulled a chair to face the full-length mirror.

Jack rattled the doorknob to the locked room.  

“Why is it locked up?”

Michael pulled a brass skeleton key from his pocket. “So the little kids don’t get hurt and the big kids don’t steal.” He handed Jack the key. “Go ahead.”

Jack closed his fingers around the key. “How come it vibrates?”

“I think that’s you shaking.”

“Nope. My other hand isn’t vibrating.” Jack jiggled the key into place, turned it, and pushed the door open. “Whoa, what kind of storage room is this? It smells like flowers.”

Michael inhaled, “I don’t smell anything but old books and mothballs. You're probably smelling the past. This used to be a dressing room for the fancy ladies.”

He turned Jack to the ornately framed, full-length mirror mounted between the closets and stood behind him. “Look, you’re a mini me.”

“More like you’re a monster me. I look like an insect.”

From the other side of the mirror. Elizabeth put her ghostly hand over her non-existent heart. “He’s exquisite, Tori. Those soulful eyes. That muscled body.” She sighed. “I can feel his magic. I must have him.”

Victoria clasped her hands together and watched Jack. She put her ghostly hand over her non-existent heart. “I’ll have the other one. He’s just coming into his magical gifts. He’s already powerful.”

Elizabeth glared at her. “The child, Tori? He’s barely off his mother’s breast.”

Tori snorted. “Not tonight, you ninny. When he becomes a man, I’ll still be nineteen.”

Elizabeth’s silent laugh echoed. “More accurately, you’ll still be dead.”

Victoria gave her a devilish smile. “Meanwhile, I’ll share in your fun with…I forgot his name.”

“Michael.” Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on him. “He looks so strong.”

Michael pulled two plastic bins from the closet. “OK, Jack, let’s find you some jeans.” He looked around in time to see Jack wander into the massive closet. “Hey, Bub, come over here. I want to get there before my nineteenth birthday.”

Michael quickly checked the sizes and passed Jack three pairs of denim contenders.

Jack chose black jeans that looked brand new. “I hope these fit.”

When he pulled them on, Michael sighed in relief. “They look good on you.”

Jack grinned.

Michael ruffled his hair. “Go get dressed. I’ll put these back and meet you downstairs.” A fist bump later, Jack was on his way to the shower. Michael was on his way to oblivion.

***

When the lights went out in the dressing room, Elizabeth and Victoria floated through the walls and floors to intercept Michael. They hovered in deathly stillness until he descended the grand staircase, stopping to check himself in the hallway mirror. By the time he registered that the image was a gray cloud, it had drawn him in, darkening to black as he spun through the portal to a Victorian bedroom, gray with dust and void of sound. Everything went black.

Michael awoke naked in canopied bed flanked by Victoria and Elizabeth. The sisters were non-corporeal, the color of light streaking through dust. Though he could barely see them, their fingers stroking his face and raking his hair rattled his teeth. Elizabeth splayed a hand on his bare chest.

He shouted, “Let me go,” and jerked away. “I don’t want to be dead.”

After Victoria faded into nothingness. Elizabeth took her hands off Michael. She shook her head slowly. Her lips said, “You are not dead.” Several seconds later, her voice followed, but her lips were still. Overcome with confusion and grief, he fell into a deep sleep.

Michael awoke sweating and disoriented. The bed was solid, as was the rest of the furniture in the realm of the dead. He sat on the edge of the bed to get his bearings. His clothing was draped over a chair. He dressed and made his first attempt to escape the scary, stunning, see-through fancy ladies.

The gray mist in the vanity mirror had cleared, revealing the dressing room. He tried to run through the mirror, but he bounced off the surface and fell through the vapor of Elizabeth’s outstretched arms to the floor. After that, the fancy ladies rarely touched him and never spoke. The mirror showed him only his vacant eyes.

Disconnected from time, he wandered the ghostly mansion, read books, and ate the food he found in the kitchen each day. No matter where he fell asleep, he awoke between the silent Greco sisters.

When Jack turned sixteen, he moved into the dressing room where he had last seen his brother. The first night he slept there, he fell asleep to the rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan and the echoes of Cajun music.

Warmth washed over Michael when the faint sound of Cajun music drifted into the Victorian bedroom followed by the scents of spicy food, the old dressing room, and Jack. A blue and purple cloud swirled in the mirror. Michael’s heart raced.

Jack awoke to rain blowing sideways. He wrestled the windows shut, toweled himself off, and wiped the hardwood floor. As he got to his feet, he caught motion in the mirror. Michael was reaching through from the other side. Jack rushed to take hold of him. Sobbing, they spun into blackness. When they slowed to stop, Michael shuddered. “I’m afraid to open my eyes. Where are we?”

Jack pulled him into a hug. “We’re home.”

The sisters watched as the fog that filled the mirror dispersed and their own colorless images flickered out. Victoria put her unfeeling hand to the untouchable mirror as Elizabeth cried dusty tears.