That’s the Spirit

“You need to come home. She’s only got a day or two left.”

“Who is this, and who are you talking about?”

“I know we haven’t spoken in five years, Ellis, but you don’t recognize your sister’s voice?”

“Piper? This must be an emergency.”

“It is. Mother had a stroke. And God knows why, but she’s asking for you. So, bring your sorry butt home.”

***

Outside of their mother’s hospital room, Piper circles Ellis like a starving vulture zeroing in on roadkill.

“Your hair’s gone silver, but at least you’ve still got it,” Piper snipes. “I see you’re still following that crazy nuts and berries diet too. You look like a thirty-two-year-old tent pole. So, how is the life of an off-the-grid organic farmer?”

“You’re in no position to criticize,” Ellis counters. “Are you still selling overpriced McMansions to stockbrokers who can’t afford them? Your clothes scream status - the black business suit, Gucci high heels, and Cartier sunglasses. But you're slipping, your war paint is smudged.”

Piper pulls a small mirror out of her expensive handbag, checking her makeup.

“So, time doesn’t heal all wounds,” Piper says venomously. “I worked like a slave and married a man I hated because Daddy said I should. When Daddy dropped dead from a heart attack, I took over the reins of the company to keep the cash flowing, while you went off and played Johnny Appleseed in Idaho, and Mother channeled ghosts. I’m the one who sat there while she carried on conversations with people she swore were there but weren’t. I’m thirty-nine and I feel like I’m ninety-nine thanks to you two.”

“I wish I could feel sorry for you, Piper, but you were a snob who wanted to be a big wheel when we were kids. You were the one whispering in Mom’s ear that I was a lazy hippie ruining the family name, so I went away.”

“You mean you ran away. And yet, you’re still Mother’s favorite. So, you’d better get in there and comfort her.”

Entering his mother’s hospital room, Ellis is immediately taken aback by how small and frail she is. Propped up in bed, she is hooked up to half a dozen monitors and I.V.s.

Her glassy eyes dwell on her son.

Her voice is weak, and she labors to breathe. “…Is that you, Ellis, or am I dreaming?...”

“It’s me, Mother.”

“…Come closer…”

She slaps him across the face.

“That’s for running away from your calling…It’s over for me, son. You have to take my place.”

“Piper should be the head of the family. She’s older, and she’s already running the business.”

“…I’m not talking about the family business…You have qualities that your sister doesn’t have, which took me a lifetime to develop… You’ll make a perfect Ferryman…Hold my hand…”

Ellis touches his mother's hand.

A burning electric current travels through him. A flash of light steals his sight, and his body spasms uncontrollably.

The sensation of a warm breeze brushes against his skin as he falls to the floor.

***

The crowd of mourners dissipates. Piper stares daggers at Ellis, pausing to say, “It’s just like you to pass out the moment she died, you useless coward.”

Ellis’s body goes numb as he watches the grave diggers cover his mother’s coffin.

He’s startled when a rich, haunting voice says, “Your mother was a good woman. Are you prepared to take her place?”

Ellis glances at the well-dressed man standing next to him, wondering what kind of person wears a tuxedo to a funeral and why he hadn’t noticed him before. His shoulder-length dark hair, light grey eyes, and delicate, high cheekbones give him a tranquil, trusting appearance.

“If you’re half as good at communicating with the dead as she was, then you’ll have plenty of clients.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. Your mother had a gift for getting earthbound spirits to move on. She told us when she started getting sick that she was going to pass her gift on to you.”

“And you are?”

“Call me Mr. Parrish. I oversee this world’s Ferrymen. We guide the dead to the other side.”

“Did Piper put you up to this?”

“Your sister has nothing to do with us.”

In the next few minutes, Mr. Parish explains the powers and obligations of a Ferryman.

Mr. Parrish pulls a piece of paper out of his vest pocket, handing it to Ellis.

“Go to this address. There’s a woman there who needs your help.”

***

Ellis glances at Hatch Livingston’s transparent visage, realizing that his wife, Hildy, can’t see him, even though he’s sitting on the couch next to her.

Hildy wrings her hands. “I didn’t know who I could turn to. Then I bumped into Mr. Parish at the market. Unlike my friends, who think I’ve gone crazy, he understood what I was going through and promised to help. He told me you can speak to the dead. I need you to talk to Hatch. I’m having horrible dreams where he comes to me and accuses me of murdering him.”

“That’s because you did, you slut!” the dead man shouts.

“Sssh.”

“What?”

“Sorry. Did you murder him?”

“No! He was insanely jealous and obsessed with the idea that I was having an affair with Nicky Horner, his best friend.”

“Were you?”

Hildy blushes. “Well, he was right about that. But I’d never kill him. We had a horrible argument the night I told him I was going to leave him for Nicky. When I came back the next day to get a few things, he was dead.”

“She’s lying! She switched my pills!”

Ellis turns to Hatch’s transparent vision. “Sssh!”

“Who are you talking to?”

“A man wearing jeans and a Quicksilver Messenger Service T-shirt. Black with red lettering.”

“That’s Hatch’s favorite T-shirt. That’s him! I told you he’s haunting me!”

“Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee while I talk with Hatch?”

***

Hatch’s hooded, lizard-like eyes, bulbous nose, and heavily lined face indicate to Ellis that he led a rough life. Ellis tries to shake Hatch’s hand, clutching at dead air.

“So, what happened, Hatch?”

“Lemme go back to the beginnin’. We was a regular family, me, my older brother Chuckie, my Mom, and my Pop. My brother and me hung around the Bronx with Touch Connors and Nicky Horner. The four’a us was standin’ outside of P.S. 121 on Story Avenue when a car passed by, and BLAM! The next thing I know, Chuckie stumbles forward inta me, a bullet between his eyes. The bullet was meant for Touch, who got his two days later. Chuckie’s death ruined our family. I started havin’ anxiety attacks, so a doc put me on pills. My Pop was always mad, and my Mom was always drunk.”

“Where does Hildy fit in?”

“I met her in a club and thought she was the best thing that ever happened to me. Ha! Me and Nicky started our own business robbin’ apartments. We graduated to bodegas. On our last job together, we rolled Carlos Cortez, the owner of the Sol Bodega, on his way to the bank. Fool had twelve grand on him. I heard it was all he had, and he was about to lose his business, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Anyway, that’s when the rice and beans hit the fan. Nicky decided he was in love with my wife and my share of the money. I overheard them plotting to run off, but I didn’t know they planned to kill me. They switched my pills on me. I was really upset after the megillah I had with Hildy, so I got ripped on scotch and took an extra dose of my anxiety pills. And here we are.”

“Let me show you something,” Ellis says, entering Hatch’s mind.

***

Hatch sees himself stumble into his bedroom.

“Never trust a pretty woman… Especially around your best friend.”

He reaches for the nearest bottle of pills.

“Well, son-of-a gun… That’s the wrong bottle. Those ain’t my anxiety pills, those are Hildy’s sleepin’ pills!”

“So, you see, your death was an accident.”

“But them two cattin’ around under my nose wasn’t.”

“Is this what you want to stay on earth for? To haunt a woman who doesn’t love you?”

“She don't deserve to be happy. And Nicky deserves worse for snakin’ my woman. I wish I could go back to before Chuckie was killed, when the four of us hung out together and my folks was happy.”

“What’s stopping you? Close your eyes…”

Hatch sees four teenagers hanging out near a sign marked Story Avenue.

“Chuckie…Touch…they’re alive! Is that what it’s like on the other side?” he asks.

“Yes. So, do you still want to spend eternity spooking your wife, or having fun with your friends?”

“What do ya think?”

“There’s just one condition.”

Hatch sighs. “Always is.”

***

Hildy and Nicky quietly enter the Sol Bodega. A man from the East Bronx Bank is screaming at Carlos Cotez, telling him he owes them twelve thousand dollars.

“You sure about this?” Nicky asks Hildy. “We’ll be startin’ out broke.”

“It’ll be worth it to finally be free of Hatch. Besides, a wise man once said, ‘Love is all you need’.”

Nick drops the bag of money on the counter, and the couple walks out.

Relaxing in an armchair in his apartment forty miles away, Ellis feels the sensation of a breeze brushing against his skin as Hatch crosses over to the other side.

***

Ellis’s heart goes out to the dejected old woman dabbing at her eyes.

“My sister, Perdita, was seventy-six. She still fed the cats, cleaned the house, and went to the shelter to help feed the homeless,” Maria says. “She was a ray of light for everyone. No one had anything bad to say about her. It’s fitting that she went peacefully in her sleep, but she won’t leave.”

Ellis glances at Perdita’s transparent image. The elder of the two Mendoza sisters tries to reach out to comfort Maria, but she can’t cross the line between the dead and the living.

“Perdita comforted me when I lost my husband, Esteban, and I was there for her when she lost Hymie. I know she wants to continue to help others, but she needs to accept that her work is done. I don’t want Perdita to go, but I’ve accepted that it’s time for her to move on.”

Perdita shakes her head emphatically. No, no!

Maria sniffles, taking a deep breath.

“She’s here. I smell the scent of buttered popcorn.”

Ellis inhales deeply. “So do I. I love that smell.”

“We lived for going to the picture shows when we were children.”

Ellis watches Perdita break into a smile, showing the gap between her front teeth.

Ellis connects with her spirit.

Perdita grins like a little girl as she sees a vision of her and Maria sitting in a theater watching the movie “Oklahoma!” and singing along.

“You can watch movies forever if you want to, Perdita,” Ellis says to her. “All you have to do is accept the end of one story to begin another.”

“…But I’ll miss Maria. I miss her already…”

“Are you speaking with her?” Maria asks.

“Yes. She misses you. That’s why she won’t cross over.”

“Tell her there’ll be more popcorn for her if I’m not there. Tell her to bring Hymie with her to the movies.”

“…Hymie prefers playing dominoes with Esteban…”

“The person Maria described to me sounded like a strong woman who only thought of others. I know it’s a lot to ask, Perdita, but can you be strong enough to move on and let Maria live out the rest of her life?”

Perdita’s image fluctuates as she lowers her head, sobbing.

“…Yes…”

Ellis turns to Maria. Her head is slumped against her chest, and her eyes are closed.

A picture forms in Ellis’s mind of the two old women in a movie theater sharing popcorn and laughing as they sing along to “Mary Poppins.”

He feels the calming sensation of a warm breeze brushing against his skin as Maria and Perdita cross over.

***

Ellis stares at his mother’s gravestone.

“Trying to decide whether she blessed you or cursed you?” Mr. Parrish’s voice rings out.

“That’s easy. It’s a curse.”

“She wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t think you could handle the responsibility.”

Ellis balls up his fists in frustration.

“I don’t want to be a Ferryman anymore. I don’t have the talent.”

“Yes, you do. You handled the Mendoza sisters beautifully.”

“I couldn’t stop Maria from willing herself to die. I should have convinced her that she still had a life worth living without Perdita.”

“You’re not to blame for her death,” Mr. Parish says. “She had a bad heart and a desire to be with her sister. I tell you what. Take one more case and we’ll talk things over.”

“All right. As long as I can get off this emotional merry-go-round.”

“That’s the spirit. No pun intended.”

***

Penny Pendleton clings to her husband, Ashton. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed young couple looks around their apartment in wide-eyed fear, waiting for the next act of violence.

“One day she came back from the arcade and started screaming like a banshee at us, saying we were useless weaklings,” Penny says. “We thought it was a phase, but this has been going on for months.”

A colander flies by Ellis’s head, hitting the wall.

“See? I know it’s Pandora,” Penny says. “She loves throwing things at us. Books, silverware, plates, anything she can get her hands on.”

“She threw my laptop through the living room window yesterday,” Ashton adds, pointing toward a broken window.

“Hmm. Spirits aren’t supposed to be able to physically interact with the present,” Ellis notes, ducking a picture frame. “Not unless they died an unnatural death.”

“Pandora was a handful. She was happy one second and angry the next,” Ashton says. “She attacked one girl in school because she didn’t like the ribbons in her hair, beat up a boy she liked who rejected her, and don’t get me started about the way she mistreated our dog, Skippy.”

“Pretty violent behavior for a ten-year-old,” Ellis comments.

“The doctor said Pandora was bipolar, maybe something worse,” Penny continues. “Reverend Cross said she was possessed. ‘Our little girl, I thought… Impossible.’ Reverend Cross even conducted an exorcism. She laughed at him. I’d never heard her laugh like that before. Her laughter was so… so…”

“Depraved,” Ashton concludes. “Reverend Cross said she invaded his mind and showed him what hell was like. Whatever he saw made him rip off his collar and dive into the bottle. Her violence escalated. When she was a baby, she fed Skippy peanut butter for a laugh. Last week, I caught her putting anti-freeze in his dog food.”

“It was almost a blessing when she died,” Penny says sadly.

“What happened?”

“Pandora became fascinated with electricity,” Ashton replies. “She said if she could absorb enough of it, she could talk to the dead…”

“Like you do,” Penny adds. “But you help people. I knew by the way Pandora was acting that she wasn’t going to help anyone but herself.”

“We kept telling her to stop sticking pens and knives in the light sockets. One day, I heard a pop, and that was it - she was gone. We think she felt cheated that her life ended so soon, which is why she’s haunting us.”

Ellis ducks as a frying pan sails by his head.

He turns to see Pandora standing in the kitchen. Despite her sunny smile and freckles, Ellis recognizes she’s no mere child.

Pandora picks up a chef’s knife from the kitchen table. She hurls the knife at Ellis. It sticks in the wall near his shoulder.

“You’re coming with me.”

“I know the dead are compelled to obey the Ferryman, but I still have work to do.”

“And that would be?”

“You talk to the dead. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to control them? I have.”

***

“The Pendeltons lied to you, Ellis. I didn’t accidentally electrocute myself. Penny held me down while Ashton strangled me. So, who’s the evil one here?”

“You’re not really a little girl, so I’m still going with you, Pandora.”

Pandora watches the car’s speedometer hit eighty-five.

“Careful, the cops have speed traps around here,” she teases.

“Are you some sort of devil?” Ellis asks, pushing the car to ninety miles per hour.

“Devils run from my kind. But if that’s what you want to call me, fine. The Extraordinary Bureau of Investigation was chasing me. I needed a body to hide in. What better place than a petulant ten-year-old? But don’t worry, when we control the dead, there’ll be no use for the living, so you’ll be free from the burden of being a Ferryman.”

The car climbs to the crest of a hill. A stalled tractor-trailer sits in their lane just ahead of them.

“So where are we going, hotshot?”

“Where we both belong.”

Ellis steps on the accelerator.

“What are you doing? You’ll kill us!”

Pandora reaches for the door.

“It’s locked.”

***

The burly truck driver shakes as he speaks with State Trooper Ty Locke.

“I saw him coming. I thought he was going to stop, but he kept on coming. All he had to do was stop!”

Ty takes a deep, reassuring breath as he checks on the condition of the car’s occupants.

He barely looks at the girl, whose head is smashed open like a vandalized Halloween Jack O’lantern.

Ellis groans faintly, reaching out to Ty.

Ty takes his hand. He feels a sharp electric current pass through his body and sees images of a farm and abundant, ripe crops.

He hears Ellis’s slow dying breath, feeling the sensation of a breeze brushing against his skin.