Ghost Trippin' Read online

  “Do we have to go inside the morgue?” Mimi asks.

  Sonny smiles patiently and I’m betting he gets this a lot. “That’s some nonsense you see on TV, and no, we don’t do it that way. When the medical examiner gets here, we’ll explain a few things and then, when you’re ready, show you a photograph of the deceased.”

  It feels like hours instead of minutes waiting for the examiner to arrive but dear Sonny Ray, like his name implies, comforts us with words and explanations and provides a bit of light into this horror. He even places a kind hand on my shoulder when Mimi explains who I am.

  Finally, the medical examiner arrives, this time a comforting woman by the name of Ivey Greene — again, it’s on her name tag. Whether it’s the trauma of the moment or a nervous reaction from seeing another name with a double meaning, I burst out laughing. The three gaze at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  I point to her name tag. “Do people around here name all their children this way?”

  Ivey and Mimi remain clueless which makes me laugh even harder, snorting away. Sonny, bless his heart, gets my meaning. When he explains why I’m laughing, the women nod but they still gaze upon me as if I’ve gone bat guano crazy. And you know what? I think I have.

  “Sorry,” I mutter when I finally get my giggles under control. But then the tears begin and I launch into a heartbreaking, louder-than-necessary sob. “Sorry,” I say between crying hiccups and rush from the room. I find a bathroom — thank goodness it’s a onesie not far away, — lock the door, crawl into a stall, and cry my eyes out, not caring if anyone’s listening.

  I think of the time wasted, the years my father threw away for what? How could a father leave his family who loved him, then end up alone at the end? And why? We had our differences and he certainly wasn’t father of the year, but to disappear for two years with only a word or two to my sister? I think of how Portia asked me to contact him and I refused, which makes me cry harder. If only I had put my resentment aside and picked up the phone. If only I’d found out what made him run while we faced a category five hurricane, and why he failed to return when we needed him. Now, I’ll never see my dad again.

  After what feels like an eternity and my sobs begin to subside, Aunt Mimi knocks on the door, calls my name. I slide the lock open and she peeks her head inside.

  “You okay?”

  I slide a sleeve across my runny nose. I don’t care if it’s a Talbot’s dress. I sit up and sigh. “Just dandy.”

  Mimi opens the stall door and sits outside so we’re facing each other on the cold linoleum floor. “Everything’s done, Vi. I’ve taken care of everything and you don’t have to look at the photos.”

  I swallow the gigantic lump that’s formed in my throat. “Is it him?”

  Mimi takes my hand and nods. “He had been in the water a long time, Hon, but I recognized that old beige fishing jacket he used to love and he was wearing his wedding ring. I picked those out for your parents, remember?”

  My parents had little money when they married; both were still in graduate school. Mimi bought their rings as a wedding present, two gold bands with an earthy design. My father loved his ring but my mom thought hers too bohemian. She ended up buying a new one with a large diamond when they found jobs and could afford it.

  The fact that Mimi recognized his ring makes it real, brings back the tears. I’m about to wrap my arms about my knees and head to pity land when Mimi grabs me by the shoulders and rises me to my feet.

  “You can cry all you want, Sweetpea, but we need to get you out of here.”

  I’ve been curled on the floor so long my feet have gone to sleep — not to mention those horrid tight shoes — so I must rely on Mimi more than I should. “I’m sorry,” I mutter as she practically drags me out the door.

  “Oh honey,” she whispers and I realized she’s crying too. “I’m so sorry.”

  The nice people with the funny names help us out, hand Mimi a bunch of paperwork and talk funeral home preparations. Thank goodness Mimi’s here, don’t think I could have managed this without her. We pile into Jerry’s enormous truck and head out. I’m still crying and Tabitha’s great makeup job slides down my face. Mimi hands me Kleenex all the way to the homestead, and I respond by blowing my nose soundly, but the twenty-minute ride allows me to pull myself together.

  When we slide into the driveway, Tabitha’s waiting, tiara still on her mile-high hair.

  “That girl needs a hobby,” Mimi mutters.

  I think back on the luncheon and the joy those women were experiencing pretending to be crowning royalty. “I think that is her hobby.”

  “Then she needs a real one.”

  When I exit the truck, jumping down on to the lawn barefoot — those shoes came off once we left the coroner’s office, — Tabitha greets me with a pout, arms locked across her chest.

  “You missed my speech.”

  Aunt Mimi rushes around the front of the truck to counteract Tabitha’s questions but by then my cousin has gotten a good look at my face.

  “What on earth…?”

  Mimi throws an arm about my shoulders and hands Tabitha the car keys and her borrowed shoes.

  “The man in the pond was John.” She leads me toward Grandma Willow’s house. “Let’s talk later, okay sweetheart?”

  “But…,” Tabitha says, and when I look back she’s staring at us as if she wants to tell us something. After a moment or two, Tabitha heads back toward her house, shoulders slumped, while we head to Grandma’s place. I look up at the old home I’ve loved since my childhood, the place where I last saw my father, the man who will never again be in my life.

  Once again, Mimi’s practically dragging me up the front steps into the house. I’m losing Lillye all over again, that helplessness to make things right, that realization that those you love are forever gone, and I feel the energy drain through me, leaking into the floorboards. Mimi places me on the old couch, the one that smells like Pinesol, and I lay my head on the pillow. She kisses me sweetly on the forehead and heads to the kitchen.

  “Deliah,” I hear Mimi say to my mom on her cellphone, “there’s something I have to tell you. It’s about John.”

  I close my eyes, pull my knees close to my chest, and cry myself to sleep.

  I awake to the wind whipping around the house and smell the wonderful fragrance of bacon cooking. For a moment, I’m back at the homestead of my youth and all is right with the world. But then I notice my clothes newly cleaned and folded on the coffee table before me, next to the medical examiner’s paperwork and a notepad with the Crescent City Mausoleum’s number written there.

  Mimi appears around the corner, a spatula in her hand, as if she psychically knew I woke up. She probably did, which makes me wonder about something else.

  “Have you seen him?” I ask, because she’s the best medium I’ve ever met.

  Mimi smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Why don’t you get dress, Sweetpea. The local funeral director will be here shortly with the ashes and then we need to drive to New Orleans.”

  “Ashes?”

  “It was your dad’s wish to be cremated.”

  That old tightness in my chest returns and I lay my head back down to keep from passing out. Mimi places a cup of coffee in front of me, sits on the edge of the couch and caresses my hair. “It’ll be okay, Vi. Let’s get back to New Orleans and family.”

  Family. I think of TB and how he needed space away from me. After that angelic display in Natchez, which freaked him out, he headed to Florida to get his own answers from his angelic descendant parents.

  “I called TB,” Mimi says as if she read my mind. “He’s coming back tomorrow, is stuck in Atlanta because of the weather.”

  There’s nothing I want so badly as to speak to my husband, but I wonder if that’s what he wants.

  “He asked if you would stop by the house and pick up Stinky. He has a friend taking care of him but that ends today.”

  Last summer an orange and white cat appeared at my Laf
ayette apartment and adopted me. Once TB met the feline, he became our baby. But there’s something very strange about Stinky. Good strange. But strange.

  I stumble into the shower, pull on my clothes, and come downstairs for breakfast. I dread giving back Tabitha’s dress wrinkled and dirty, but Mimi insists we must leave as soon as the urn arrives. The weather’s blowing frigid outside from the front that has moved in and the temperatures have plummeted but thankfully we’re south enough to only get rain; snow has been reported north of Montgomery.

  The funeral director arrives but Mimi meets him outside and places what’s left of my father in the trunk of my Honda. The urn comes inside a solid wooden box; otherwise I would insist he ride in the backseat.

  I wince at the thought. This is all too surreal.

  As if things couldn’t get weirder, Tabitha arrives and guess what she’s wearing? She saunters up the porch steps in her fur-collared coat, boots made for someplace really cold, like Montana, and yes, the tiara. She quickly enters the house.

  “It’s freezing out there,” she announces once she gets in, stomping her boots on the floor as if there’s snow attached. “I’m so glad we had our luncheon yesterday.”

  I can’t believe that’s the first thing out of her mouth but whatever. I hand her the dress.

  “I’m sorry I can’t have it cleaned for you. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  She waves her hands. “Don’t be silly.”

  “I may have gotten some makeup on the sleeve.” I leave out the rest.

  Again, the waving of hands. “No worries.”

  We stand there looking at each other, at a loss for words, me with my bloodshot eyes and sullen countenance and Tabitha in her tiara. She turns serious, biting her lower lip. “Vi….”

  Mimi waltzes in and the cold air follows, startling us both. “Time to go,” she announces.

  Tabitha sighs and pulls me into a hug. “Call me, okay?”

  I hug her back and assure her I will. Then she pulls off her fancy coat and hands it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “I doubt you expected this cold front. You need a coat.”

  Family. So exasperating and yet….

  I hug her again, tighter this time, and she whispers once more, this time almost pleading, “Please keep in touch.”

  I nod and put on her coat, which is incredibly warm. “Smells like lavender.”

  “It’s this new detergent I’m using. Thirty dollars a box, but so worth it.”

  “Let’s go,” Mimi announces and we’re off, Tabitha standing in the driveway shivering, her tiara glistening in the morning light, watching us until we disappear from her sight.

  The ride to New Orleans goes quickly. It appears most motorists are avoiding the interstate due to the unusually cold weather, plus Mimi has a lead foot. We head to Mid-City first, to the house TB and I shared for years, a gift from his parents when we first married. I never liked the place with its cheap cabinetry and fake wooden floors but was thankful for the gift. Still, when Katrina flooded the house into the second floor I wasn’t sad to give it up. My carpenter husband remained and painfully restored every room while I escaped to Lafayette, but I’m beginning to wonder if he, too, yearns to move on.

  “I’ll only be a minute,” I tell Mimi and head to the house. I open the door and call out my cat’s name. An orange streak comes running and I fall on to the floor to pull him into my lap.

  “I’ve so missed you,” I tell Stinky, who purrs in response.

  “Oh great,” says a pair of heels in my eyesight. “I was afraid you weren’t coming and I have a showing in ten minutes.”

  I look up to find an attractive woman in a tailored blue suit with makeup that would make Tabitha proud.

  “You’re the friend taking care of Stinky?”

  “Yes, although he doesn’t like me very much.”

  As if on cue, Stinky lets out a hiss.

  I get to my feet and notice this woman stands a good two or three inches above me, about the height of my husband. I glance around the house and notice that not only has TB restored the place but there’s new furniture, window dressings, healthy-looking plants as if fresh from a hothouse, and exquisite rugs on top of shining new pine flooring.

  “Wow,” I say.

  “Thank you.”

  I glance back at Miss Perfection and notice she’s holding flyers for an open house. My heart sinks. When I split with TB after Katrina I had a short fling with a hotel colleague and TB, being lonely in New Orleans, had a one-night stand with a real estate agent. He had been visiting home models to get ideas for renovations —although I seriously think it was the free cookies and wine — and he and this woman briefly hit it off. At least he said it was only one night.

  “You’re the real estate agent,” I say, hoping I’m wrong.

  “And you’re the ex-wife,” she replies with a grin.

  She heads toward the door while my heart crashes to the floor. Did TB want a break from me so he could see this woman again?

  She pauses at the threshold. “Tell TB I’ve still got the key, in case he wants me to come back.” And with a sly smile, she heads out the door.

  Stinky hisses in her wake.

  “Good boy,” I tell him.

  I grab the cat food and his favorite bowl and take one last look around. I’d never recognize the place, it’s so neat and stylish. I wonder if the second floor has been renovated too, including Lillye’s room, but the tightness in my chest returns and I feel faint, so I call to Stinky and we leave. Stinky follows me from the house like a dog, climbing into the car and nestling at my feet when I join him.

  Mimi stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Where’s the cat carrier?”

  “He doesn’t need one.”

  Mimi shakes her head. “That cat’s not right.”

  We drive to my mom’s house and find several cars out front, but all I can think of is how much I’ve lost. First, my precious daughter. Then, Katrina and everything I own. Now, my father’s dead and TB’s falling for some swanky real estate goddess. I’m falling into a black hole like water pouring down a drain, swirling around into the deep abyss. I feel Mimi taking my elbow and Stinky at my feet but the world blurs as I head into the house. Even when mom rushes over to hug me and Portia starts asking questions, all I can fathom is the world turning gray.

  “I’m going to lay down,” I tell them and head toward my mother’s bedroom. I hear Mimi saying, “Let her go,” and my mother voicing concern as I slip into the room, close the door, and climb into my mother’s bed. I slide beneath the sheets, close my eyes, and the world disappears.

  When I open my eyes the wind’s still growling at the window but it’s dark and I hear the door open slowly while light from the hallway sneaks inside. “Vi,” my mother calls out, but I close my eyes and fade away.

  I next awake when I feel the bed shift and look up to find Mimi caressing my hair. It’s morning — at least I think so — for the room is now bathed in warm sunlight.

  “Vi, we need you to get up and have something to eat,” Mimi says.

  I groan, turn over, and head back to LaLa Land.

  I sense a presence once again and open my eyes and it appears to be nighttime. This time, my father is seated in the chair before me, still dressed in his beige jacket and khaki pants. I rise up and pull the hair from my face. “Dad?”

  At first, he doesn’t answer and I wonder if I’m dreaming. But then he leans forward and smiles. “You don’t look so good, sweetheart.”

  “Seriously?” I try to sit up more but I’m so dang tired. “You’re the one who’s dead.”

  John smiles politely as if I told a silly joke.

  “Dad, what happened?”

  He gazes around the room but he appears as if he comprehends nothing. “I don’t know where I am.”

  This time I do sit up fully, lean back against the headboard. “You’ve been in an accident. They say you hit your head and fell into Tabitha and Jerry’s pond.
”

  That smiles returns and he shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

  I’m scared now, because I don’t know where my father is. They say there’s an in-between realm between this world and what we consider heaven, and that some people who die too fast or don’t realize they’re dead get stuck in Purgatory or whatever they call it (I slept through catechism). If they’re lucky, they can appear as ghosts and some SCANC like me or a medium like Mimi or John Edwards will help them cross over into bliss.

  “What’s it like where you are?” I ask. “What are you seeing?”

  He gazes at me like he did when I was a child and smiles lovingly. “I’m worried about you.”

  “About me? Dad, you’re….”

  “You’re in a sad place, sweetheart.”

  I start to cry. “I’m here because you left me.”

  His smile fades. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Then why?”

  He glances around, taking in his surroundings, but I doubt he’s seeing my mother’s room. “It’s so dark here.”

  I’m crying harder now because he’s scaring me. Where did my father go, both in this world and the next? He gives me a sad smile one more time, then fades away. I fall back on my pillows, still crying, and hear Portia call my name. She sticks her head inside the room and although I hear her talking, I comprehend nothing. Within seconds, I’m back asleep.

  I awake again to sunlight and the thought flits across my brain that I may have slept through two days. I squint my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in through mom’s window.

  “Hey Babe.”

  Across from me, his head on the next pillow, lies my husband, his blonde hair glowing with the sun behind him and his chocolate brown eyes sparkling. As he smiles and we stare at each other across the bed a love so intense runs through me and that chest tightness bursts like a supernova.

  “Hey,” is all I manage.

  He carefully moves the hair from my face, securing it behind an ear. “Why aren’t you getting up, Vi?”

  It’s then I remember the events of the past few days, my father sitting across from me in the night, talking about darkness.