Train Spirits

People should never die on Fridays. There are many other moments and better days to kick the bucket. But Friday was off limits. One of those deities should vote pro-life and make this a no-death date. Then the angel of date would stay at home, throw his legs on the couch, and watch the Pink Panther make life impossible for the Inspector.

Saturday was the kids and youth baseball day, and there were always tons of people just sitting around begging for something to pop up. Maybe a fire, crackling without smoke that would carefully eliminate the neighbor and his green, lush farm. Even a hailstorm is highly welcome, but it can really get boring on Saturdays.

Sunday was the crown of all moments. Most people are battling a hangover, while others are dying to get out of a long, tiring sermon and put it into practice. Maybe help bury the neighbor.

They paid me on Friday, around noon, the sun was already making me sweat, and my skin itched. It wasn’t enough. Grandpa was dead, he was in the morgue, and no one else came.  I made a thousand phone calls, but just like Grandpa had stepped on everyone’s toes, they all had things to do.

This is where you either beg, borrow, or steal.  I couldn’t stoop that low, and I knew that my carpenter friend was still watching from above.  So, I went to see Big Mack and laid it all out on him. He only said, ‘I am stiff broke’.

Big Mack looked me over, head to toe, touching my stomach, then declared, ’If I didn’t know better, I would say that you were twins with Benji.’

I just feigned a smile and walked away. Yet, it was true, everyone said that.

But my problem was bigger than the compliments of an old tweak.  I pondered over the issue, pacing the park, maybe I would find some fallen cash. The sun was dying now, but I hardly noticed the beautiful rainbow that all these people had come to see, smiling ear to ear.

There is an old man, Larry, sitting on a bench nearby, who dances slowly to the wind, unable to maintain his rectitude. His head kept falling back to his chest, even though he battled to keep his chin high. He called out to me twice, but, seeing that he was drunk, I just walked on, to and fro. He called me again, and I sat down beside him. He asks me about Grandpa and gives his condolences. Now, he tells me that everyone knows my story.  I am broke and have no money to bury the old man.

He tells me a story, and I sit upright. Nicholas just won the lottery; maybe he could help. I have known Nicholas since we played in our boxers, running in the rippling stream. He has changed now, buys the lottery every day, and curses the government.

He once fainted when we were in grade school. On All Fools’ Day, we sent a funeral car to pick up his dead body. The car had responded to our emergency call and driven immediately to his house, with information to retrieve his body. The joke was too much. Somehow, we got over it and remained friends. There was this other time when we went ghost hunting in the cemetery, and Nicholas fainted again.

We had come across a young woman who joked about her walking out of her grave. She had offered to bite Nicholas and make him her lifelong partner. He fell hard to the ground with a thud.

There is a time when a man has to do what a man’s got to do. I needed a wig. I went over to the beauty parlor and rented one. It was quite a Benz, and I almost didn’t take it. But it had to be perfect.

I tried to rent a jacket, but it turned out to be a warplane, and I left quickly.  I decided to use one of Grandpa’s instead. I found one in the old closet beneath the stairs. And although the rats and moths had made their nests on it.  I powdered and ash-tinted my face until it was completely gray.  I pulled the wig into place, making sure that not one strand of my old curly hair was left. Black, sleek hair was visible.  I put the jacket on.

I pageanted before the full mirror on the eastern side of the sitting hall.  Grandpa smiled at me and waved. His stomach is a little flat, but the jacket makes him old enough. The crowd cheered, and the lasses tossed tens of roses at him. A new star was born in Hollywood.

Still too early; no ghost leaves its tomb before midnight. I placed the jacket safely on the side of the couch, then stretched out for a moment, raising my feet, shoes and all, onto the soft leather. The street buzzed with the blowing of horns and the heavy groans of engines, screams, barks, laughter – and somewhere in the crux of all my woes, I fell asleep.

I woke up to the heavy pounding on the door and the insistent calling of my name. I asked them to wait a minute while I washed my face, hid the wig, and placed the jacket safely away under the stairs.

Nicolas was standing there. He brushed past me and sat on the sofa. ‘Here, junior. Your grandpa wanted me to give you this.’’

His hands trembled.  His eyes roamed the room.

‘I had no idea, Nicky, that you were Pa’s accountant.’ I took the cash. The world rolled off my shoulders.

‘I wish that I were.  He came to see me last night.’ I laughed out loud, then shook my head.

‘I keep telling you, Nicky, leave those horror movies aside.’

‘Seriously, Junior. It was about midnight, and I heard the door creak open. I thought, you know, that Byron had come by, but then he walked into the bathing room. I almost fainted again. He was so pale and grumpy that I was dumbstruck to see him.

‘He approached me, carrying a white light behind him, while a little crow hovered above his head.  He could hardly speak, said that you had no money and that he had made me win the lottery, so I could help you.’

‘I always told you buying the lottery was a bad thing… But tell me, how was Pa dressed?’

‘I know you won’t believe me, but he was wearing an old, tattered plaid jacket. It smelled like the tomb, and rats’ pee, but …. I wondered; we haven’t even buried him yet.  You know something, Junior, I am cured. I am no longer afraid of ghosts.’

A movement in the mirror caught my eye. I could swear I saw Grandpa waving at me.