Love Beyond the Envelope: Strangers on the Spooky Trolley

“It’s funny how we become the way others perceive us.

It starts with families, goes into school, social media, everywhere.

No wonder everyone’s on antianxiety meds and desperate to be happy.

We don’t know who we are anymore.”

--Jennifer Probst, Love on Beach Avenue

***

You can be grooving along in the same old groove, like a broken stylus on a turntable that repeats the same song in a loop, when suddenly something shakes things up—and without warning the music stops. Daniel Marimu had been in his groove. Grooving. New job as a budding romance writer with a New York Times Bestseller on his resume. New girlfriend, Marissa, an exciting young knock-out with an angelic voice, that took his breath away. Grooving along on groovy street. Danny boy had been keeping to a strict five-thousand-words a day writing routine. Writing monk. Don Juan. Two month’s rent in his Chase account. Groovy town. Then one day everything changed.

“We have to talk,” the text message said.

Swallowing through the lump in his dry throat, Daniel called Marissa.

“Hey babe,” she said.

“What is it, babe?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t know the best way to say this… but…I met someone else on tour, and I didn’t want to lie… I wanted to tell you… I don’t want to lead you on Danny… it isn’t right,” she said. 

Marissa’s voice sounded calm and relaxed. 

Daniel suddenly couldn’t breathe and was having trouble getting the words out.

“I thought—we were in love—what do you mean you met someone?” he said.

“I’ve just been so lonely on tour, you know, and Tommy—”

“—Tommy Bellamy, your back-up bass player? That Tommy Bellamy,” Daniel said through clenched teeth, grinding his jaw so hard he thought he’d crack a tooth.

“Yes. Me and Tommy—”

“—You and Tommy—"

“Oh, damn it, Danny, I think I’m in love with him, I owe it to myself to see where this goes,” Marissa said. Then added, “I’m so sorry, don’t be mad.”

“You, uhh, owe it to yourself, huh. That’s great Marissa. Just lovely. No, you’re right. Let’s just forget about what you owe me, huh, for being there when you were down on your luck and didn’t have a gig, supporting you—encouraging—just forget it. Why am I even going on like this?” he said.

“I don’t know why you have to be like this Danny, really. I thought you’d be an adult about this. You know. These things happen. That’s all. It wasn’t like I meant for it to happen,” she said.

“You mean, you and Tommy, didn’t mean for it to happen, right—that’s what you mean—huh. Oh lord, I had created a whole character based on you. Now, I’ll have to kill her off… my God!” Danny said.

“There you go again, being dramatic! Is that really necessary. You go straight to murder,” Marissa said.

“Tell you what Rissy, you and Tommy have a real nice time on tour. I’m done,” and Daniel hung up the phone.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Daniel yanked it open. “What is it now?” he yelled onto the porch of his duplex in Jersey City, letting in some of the cool October air.

A short Spanish man with a name badge saying Abraham and well-defined calves was standing there. He took a step back. Then said, “It’s just the mail brotha. Shit! I’ll just leave it on the stoop next time. I don’t need this abuse.”

He didn’t notice it at first. And then as he started throwing out one solicitation letter after another, three for credit cards, two for political candidates, and one for speed dating, f*cking speed dating—there it was, a strangely addressed letter:

“Occupant: [For Your Eyes Only]

Beware the Curse of the Codex

1014 Washington Street

Cape May, NJ 08204

Whatever You Do –

Do Not Open Before the Winter Solstice”

* * *

693 words. He tapped his fingers on the desk. Massaged his forehead. Stood and circled the chair. Sat down. If he could just get to five-thousand-words. Had to keep writing. There was safety behind the words. 

Think, think. Click, click… The hunched Bodach with ribbons of gray hair trailing his bald, wrinkled scalp tiptoed into the Ocean 7 Restaurant of the Inn of Cape May, floating to the maître d’ stand and switched the reservations for Marissa and Tommy… for Mary and Bob, seating them at the same table. Then as a busser emerged from the kitchen, the Bodach turned into a spectral image and phased through the wall, escaping out onto the porch. Safe, he hobbled out to the beach with a smirk…. No good. Total trash. Groove busted. Can’t do it.

Daniel thought about the letter. Why was it addressed to his old address? The one from when he was working as a maître d’ at the Inn of Cape May? That was where he first started writing the short stories that turned into his book, “the Bodach Matchmaker.” Now, a series. Was it a coincidence? Was it forwarded? What was the explanation? And what in the hell is a codex?

Daniel went out on the porch and smoked two Marlboro Light cigarettes. One after another. He thought about how closed off he’d been. Writing like a fiend. Trying to earn it. Earn happiness. And now he was back to square one. And what was with this damn letter?

He tried to hold the letter up to his lamp and read through the paper. Security tint envelope. You have to be kidding. Daniel grabbed his letter opener and tore the damn thing open. The contents went hurtling across the room and nearly blew out the open window. Daniel grabbed the folded contents out of the air like he was catching a fragile object about to shatter.

A map. It was just a map. What gives? Then he realized what the map was for. It was the basement of the Inn of Cape May.

* * *

“Just here for a room Marge,” Daniel said.

“Oh, Danny! It’s you! You’ve come back to us,” Marge said.

“Nice to see you too, Marge,” Dan smiled.

“I’ve read your short stories in the Raven and that new book the Bodach Matchmaker. My lord, Danny! What an imagination. Are some of those stories true?” she pinched his cheek and continued, "was our little maître d’ serving up a side of love with the entrees, hmmm?”

“Afraid it’s all in my head Marge. No truth to any of it. I don’t even know if I believe in love myself, to be honest,” Daniel shrugged.

“Good thing Angelica Starling does! When they first told me you were writing under a female pen name, I couldn’t believe it, but when I read that first story the Bodach Picnic, I immediately recognized your witty repartee…” Marge went on, and on.

“Marge, I’m really tired. Been a long trip. We can catch up later if you don’t mind. I just really need to lay down right now,” Daniel said.

As Marge was printing the room key, an impatient girl waltzed up to the counter with hands on her hips.

“Samantha Salter! Back from breakfast? I can’t wait to hear all about it, dear,” Marge said.

She had on a Primark woman’s bucket hat, a sea foam Elaine 201 tank top, and white Fashionova pants. Shoulder-length creamy blonde hair peaked out from below the hat, which left her murky topaz eyes in shadow. Freckled cheeks and a button nose hopped as she spoke. Daniel watched her ivory white teeth and glossed lips sparkle with obnoxious enthusiasm.

“This town is so dar-ling, Marge! I can’t wait for Amanda’s wedding—everything is going to be perfect—this is the best Maid of Honor scouting trip of life. I just walked the trails down by the lighthouse and then got breakfast at the Washington Street Mall. I ate at a little patio table at Coffee Tyme. Sooo cu-te.” She put her hands over her heart and cocked her head, “Inn—Love.”

“So glad you are enjoying it,” Marge said, “come back and tell me everything, just everything, you hear,” and then Marge saw Daniel with his arms crossed, tapping his foot, and said, “oh, oh, almost forgot about you Daniel, Mr. New York Times List, here you go dear, enjoy your stay!”

Daniel knew there was a reason he left Cape May. The place was like bubble gum ice cream. Gag-ilicious! The cheer police were on full patrol and the last thing Danny boy needed right now was a spirited retelling of tourist bait attractions.

* * *

“The codex (pl: codices /ˈkoʊdɪsiːz/) was the historical ancestor of the modern book. Instead of being composed of sheets of paper, it used sheets of vellum, papyrus, or other materials. The term codex is often used for ancient manuscript books, with handwritten contents. A codex, much like the modern book, is bound by stacking the pages and securing one set of edges by a variety of methods over the centuries, yet in a form analogous to modern bookbinding.”

Basically, a stack of thick paper in a leather satchel. Got it.

On the nightstand was the Inn of Cape May Guest Booklet. Having never actually stayed at the Inn itself, Daniel wasn’t familiar with the contents. But when he opened it, he struck gold. The Spirits and Oddities Trolley Tour. Promising. If the riddle of the codex and how to read this map was going to pop up anywhere, it had to be on that tour. Holding in his hands the leather backed, two-sided, laminated Guest Book, filled with thick vellum or wool sheaths like resume paper, Daniel thought for a second—kind of the same thing as a Codex—no, can’t be.

* * *

Samantha Salter held her Canon EOS M50 Mark II vlogging camera at an angle on a selfie stick and talked to herself.

“Samm-my here! It’s the Salt of the Earth Travel Vlog and it’s Satur-day peop-ple, which means it’s time for my latest vide-ohh. I’m scouting for Amanda’s wedding and absolute-ly in love with Cape May. Everyone knows that Cape May is spook-ky town USA, so I absolutely had to catch a Spooky Trolley Tour while I was out here. We are in for an adventure peop-le!” Samantha said.

Samantha’s hair was back in a bun, with two Kid Rock-styled braids framing her face. Her freckles were caching the sun, but she was busy glowing like a 100-watt light bulb. Disgusting.

They boarded the bright red Trolley, with the forest green arches and open air midsection, and Daniel made his way to the back of the bus.

Samantha took the seat across and smiled.

“I’m just going to set up here in the corner, love—don’t want the wind to spoil the audio. This should be exciting,” she said.

“Yeah, sure thing,” Dan said, turning back to his iPhone. He scrolled the image of the map, trying to suss out a clue as to what secret this map was hiding.

A jolly man with a handlebar mustache moved to the front. They were ruddy, plump cheeks full of air and color like he’d just blown up a balloon.

"Name's Gorgi McManus, folks, and Spirits & Spooks are me game! I've been ghost-huntin' out 'ere on the island for about thirty years, and by the saints, do I have some tales to be tellin'. First stop on our tour is the Emlen Physick Estate, and begorrah, do I have a tale for ye. The old proprietress, Franci Rolliston, had an elderly aunt, auntie Em, Emi Parmantier. Now, when Em was a girl, she was betrothed by her parents and set up for an arranged marriage with Elijah Hawthorne, a wealthy commodities dealer from Pennsylvania. They'd never crossed paths before. Franci had arranged the Tower Suite of the old mansion for Em and Elijah to meet and dine together for the first time on the night before their weddin'. Em was dressed in black and spent hours preparin' herself for when Elijah arrived. Legend has it she nearly lost hope as the clock approached midnight. But he arrived, at long last! They spent a romantic evenin' together. Little did dearest Emi know that Elijah had passed away nearly twelve hours before in a carriage mishap in the Pine Barrens. When he didn't appear for the weddin' the followin' day, a search party was sent out, and they found his body. But Auntie Em wasn't a jilted bride, oh no. She stayed in the Tower Suite for thirty-three years, until she passed on, and guests heard her conversin' in her room, seemingly with herself. Auntie Em went to her eternal rest insistin' she had a romance with this dashing specter for the entirety of her life, and she never took another lover!"

Samantha turned her vlogging rig in Daniel’s direction and said, “Hey friend. Isn’t that theee moss-st romantic thing you’ve ever heard?”

“It’s something alright,” Daniel said.

“Don’t be a dower Dan, Dan… hahah… get it, because your name is Dan,” Samantha said, giggling.

“Okay. I’ll play along. Buttt, my starry-eyed Samantha—see what I did there—aren’t you forgetting that this tale is basically a tragedy—the woman’s lover died, and she went insane. That is not a whimsical lover’s tale at all!” Dan said.

“I think it’s lovely. Even though they never met before, they fell madly in love, and it was a love so strong that he waited with her for the rest of her life. It was meant to be.” Samantha mused, turning off the camera. Then she turned a little more serious, “Hey, what’s wrong with you buddy boy, is everything ok?”

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Daniel said, turning back to his phone.

* * *

The stop at the Emlen Physick Estate was uneventful. Samantha buzzed around like a bee, narrating. Dan listened to old Gorgi with rapt attention, but there were no clues to be found.

When they boarded the trolley again, Gorgi got on the PA and said, “Roight, folks, our next stop's Washington Street for a wee snack and some coffee, and then after that, we're off to the Cape May Lighthouse. If ya thought me ghost huntin' stories from the Emlen Physick Estate and the night I communed with two wanderin' spirits were spooky, wait 'til ya hear the tale of the Lantern Lady of the Lighthouse and her Lass. Spoiler alert: Ya won't be gettin' any sleep after ya hear this chillin' tale!"

The tourists shuffled off for snack time. Dan sat glued to his iPhone. He expected Samantha to jump off and document the excursion, but she stayed seated, rewinding and reviewing her footage from the tour so far.

“Aren’t you going with them,” he asked.

“Oh no, I already ate—besides—I have to pre-edit this footage. Won’t have much time later,” Samantha said with a wink.

“Gotcha,” Daniel said, and then asked, “What is it like a full-time thing, this vlogging?”

“It is now. I was bartending down here two summers ago when I started the vlogging, but finally got enough of a following and started making money—so now I am playing this out—trying to make it big on YouTube,” Samantha shared.

“The whole struggling artist vibe, I get it,” he said, “but what made you come out and vlog in Cape May, I overheard you before and the wedding isn’t until December—you aren’t out making plans that far in advance, right?” Daniel asked.

“Honestly. I’m husband hunting, lol! Not really. But, seriously though, yeah, I need a date for the wedding and I always meet interesting people down at the Cape,” Samantha said.

“You don’t have a—”

“—Boyfriend? No. No sir,” Samantha said.

“A cute internet sensation like you, single—I don’t believe it.”

“The thing is, it is just a lot of work with the vlogging. You’ve got to shoot content. Edit video. Do promotions. Sponsorships. A lot of guys are intimidated by a woman in the limelight. And its long hours. You’d be surprised. It’s no cake walk, that’s for sure,” Samantha said.

“No, I get it. I’m a writer. Same thing.”

“Aren’t you like a bigtime writer or something? Marge said, New York Times Bestseller?”

“Hahh. Bigtime! That’s a laugh. A New York Times Bestseller doesn’t pay what you’d think. But, I am supporting myself off of it. Now my editor wants a sequel. It isn’t easy writing a book. That’s like 100,000 words. You know how long it takes to write 100,000 words?” Daniel said.

“Gosh. No. I can’t even. I have my hands full getting five minutes of video content. That’s a lot. That’s a lot, a lot – you must be very smart to put something like that together,” Samantha said and gazed at him a while, studying him. Daniel felt seen. Accomplished. Saw himself through her eyes.

The tourists piled back on and moments later they were at the lighthouse.

Gorgi bellowed, “1823, 1847, and 1859. They built this lighthouse three times. Some say a woman and her child are buried beneath, and the buildin' disturbed their graves. The Lantern Lady wanders the dunes with her Lassie. It's said they're out lookin' for a lost Irish spirit, the Bodach—”

And it clicked. Daniel was the Bodach. The Bodach sent the letter. This was the message. The Codex was this tour. Daniel had to find his own Lantern Lady. That was the clue.

* * *

Standing atop the lighthouse in the cupola, caged in by the red frames, staring out at the sea, so high off the ground, Daniel felt grounded and anchored to the ground, at last. As the sun dropped over the horizon, Gorgi fired up the Beacon, and it strobed. Samantha stowed her camera.

Gazing in her eyes, Daniel took her hand.