Adelaide Confused (26 page)

My novel was the last to go
back into the bag,
Violated by a
Viking
, or something to that effect. I
stood up briskly and continued to walk, keeping a casual pace. I
passed a few bicyclists along the way, but mostly families. One man
called out, asking if I would mind taking a picture for him. His
wife and kids were already posed, just waiting for a helpful
passerby. I pretended not to hear and kept on walking.

My feigned indifference was
just that—feigned. I was not keen on being followed. My heart was
thumping and I really wanted to break away and make a run for it.
But who knew what he’d do then? So I played it prudent, unwilling
to force his hand. Admittedly, he didn’t frighten me like Beagban
did, whose mere presence made me shake in terror. But he worried me
all the same.

The Parlor was just ahead.
I only needed to cross the street, but I veered off instead,
looping the long way around a chain of stores. The second I was
around the corner and out of sight I took off running, hardly
pausing to cross the intersection. The easel was absent, the
Parlor’s front door locked. I banged on the glass with both fists
while watching over my shoulder. I only had a minute or so before
he rounded the corner and I didn’t want him to see where I’d
disappeared to.

Nancy opened the door just then, looking a
bit frazzled. I pushed her out of the way as I stumbled inside,
slamming the door behind me.

“
What’s the matter? Are you
alright?” she asked with concern.

Ignoring her questions I
peeked out through the blinds, watching as the Average Joe jogged
around the corner. He halted, searching the shoppers, but after a
moment was visibly disappointed. I sighed with relief, feeling
quite crafty.

Nancy peered over my
shoulder, curious. “What? What is it?”

“
Nothing,” I said, dropping
the blinds into place with satisfaction. “I was being followed, but
I lost him.”

“
Are you in trouble?” Her
eyes had gone wide. She was worried for me.

I waved vaguely. “I hope
you’re not busy, because I really need to talk to you.”

I turned the bolt and
followed Nancy through the creaky, narrow hallway. It was just as
dark and dusty as I remembered, the grayish-blue floorboards
washing out the already dreary wallpaper. “The crowds are out. Why
are you closed?”

She led me around the desk
and past the rooms where people received their mystical
consultations. “Usually we keep tourist hours,” she answered. “You
know, closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. But Eclipsys was feeling
poorly this weekend, so I didn’t bother flipping the
sign.”

“
Something
serious?”

“
No, just a migraine. She’s
feeling better today.” The last door along the hallway opened to a
staircase. I climbed after Nancy, noticing here feet were bare
beneath her green peasant skirt.

I hadn’t cared where we
were going, hadn’t thought about it, but I was surprised to find
the second floor was here living quarters. The stairs emptied into
a den-like room. It was cluttered with baubles, but
homey.

Sunlight flooded in through
a large bay window, highlighting the dangling stained glass
trinkets. With herbs growing in the sill and silky scarves draped
over the lamps, the place had a witchy feel. But unlike the
dramatic theatrics of the floor below, this wasn’t done up to fit a
client’s preconceived notion of the occult. This was a reflection
of Nancy’s personality.

What should have been a
dining room was an office turned gym, with a desk pushed against
the wall and an elliptical machine hogging up all the space.
Eclipsys was on it, her feet and the machine flushed together,
spinning in fluid motion.

She didn’t pause when Nancy
said, “You remember Adelaide?” but grunted in reply.

“
Feeling better?” I asked
sarcastically. Watching her exercise, it was hard to believe she’d
ever been sick.

Gone was the small but
stately astrologer, and in her place was a small and sweaty woman.
Her pseudo gypsy/priestess garb was gone, and she wore a pair of
gray sweats instead. With her hair tied in a ponytail, the black
curls made a pom pom that bounced with every step.

Finding her as such left me
quite satisfied.

Nancy took the higher road, pretending we
were all good friends. “We’ll be in the kitchen,” she said to
Eclipsys. “I’ll fix you a drink if you like.”

Eclipsys gave no response
and Nancy strode away as if she’d never expected one. Their
relationship was odd. They had the familiarity of lovers but none
of the affection. Perhaps just a close friendship? But there was a
formality there as well, maybe due to their working situation. A
friendly professionalism, I mused. Or maybe it was a sisterly
attitude because they were related. One of them was obviously
adopted then, because when it came to looks, they were polar
opposites.

Eclipsys was petite but
firm, with wiry musculature. Nancy on the other hand was a large
and fleshy woman. Eclipsys was dark and severe with sleek curling
black hair. Nancy was a frizzy blonde, disheveled but friendly, her
motherly gestures inviting and trustworthy. If Eclipsys was night,
then Nancy was day.

I took a seat at the
kitchen table and Nancy, the ever thoughtful hostess, asked if I’d
like some tea.

“No, do you have soda?”

The answer was no, but I really wasn’t
surprised.

She settled herself in the chair across from
me. “So, you’re being followed...” she hinted, fishing for an
explanation.

“Yes,” I admitted candidly. “But that’s not
the reason I came.”

“It’s not?”

“
No, I have questions
concerning the ghosts. I was hoping you could explain why they’re
changing.”

“What do you mean changing?” she asked,
eyebrows pinched.

“
Do you remember when I
asked if that ghost at the motel was broken because he winked in
and out?” I waited for her nod and continued. “But he wasn’t
broken. All ghosts are like that... sort of struggling and fragile.
Or they used to be until recently.”

“
What changed?” she asked,
perplexed and curious.

I shrugged, equally
perplexed. “I don’t know. My pet ghost, you know, the dog, it’s
been dragging my clothes around, even chewing on them,” I said
feeling frustrated all over again just thinking about it. “And
today, just now, I tripped over it.”

“
You tripped over a
ghost?”

“
Yeah, I know, it’s crazy,
but that’s not even the half of it. The sulky ghost, the one that
haunts my motel, he can pick me up, and punch. He punches
things.”

She gasped, totally
appalled. “He’s violent?”

“
I guess so, but in a good
way. He’s helped me out of a pinch a time or two.” My response did
nothing to appease her. I tried again. “Really, he’s never hurt me.
He’s very protective,” I assured.

There was a concerned pause
before she asked, “Have you noticed this phenomenon among all the
ghosts?”

“
There aren’t a lot of
ghosts on St. Simons, but Jekyll Island is lousy with them.” I
thought back to the ghosts I’d seen. “For the most part, they
appeared normal, or whatever’s normal for a ghost. But there was
one... she was different.”

“
How so?”

“
She suspected I could see
her, so she began to taunt me, hoping I’d react. She pinched one of
my friends and whispered in another’s ear, she could also make the
trees move. But none of it seemed to tire her. She didn’t blink out
or fade away. It was like she had a store of energy. But what do I
know? Maybe it’s like with bugs—she’s the strongest because she’s
their queen.”

Suspicious and worried, Nancy asked, “This
ghost, what did she look like?”

“
Middle-aged, probably died
in the seventies.” I forwent mentioning the hefty bit because of my
audience.

“Oh dear,” Nancy muttered.

“
I was joking about the
queen thing.”

“Yes, I know, it’s not that.”

“
What?” I asked, not liking
the direction of her emotions.

“
Her name is Mable,” Nancy
said, shifting in her chair uneasily. “She was... well, I suppose
you could say she was Percy’s pet ghost.”

“
What!”

“
He came across her,” she
paused to think, “on his first visit to the island,” Nancy
explained. “We were living in northern Georgia at the time and he
was traveling on business for a day or two. He mentioned her when
he came back, just briefly. But his ghost sightings were never
news, so I forgot about it.

“
But then we moved here and
she sort of... attached herself to him.” Nancy’s fingers smoothed
the tablecloth rhythmically, a gentle fidget. “He said she was
helpful.”

“But you didn’t like her,” I guessed from the
rising resentment.

Chagrined, she said, “It’s
ridiculous, I know, to begrudge a ghost.” With a self-depreciating
smile, she said, “But in my defense, living with her was really
quite burdensome.

“
Obviously I couldn’t sense
her, and yet, I always knew when she was there. Percy gave it away.
I’d wake in the morning next to him and he’d act cool towards me,
unaffectionate, and I’d know she was in the room watching.” Nancy
looked at me, saying, “You can feel how I grew to resent her, and I
think she felt the same.

“
Eventually I talked to
Percy, admitting I didn’t want her in the house. He didn’t take me
seriously, said she was harmless. So I let my complaints rest, but
I don’t think that Mable did. After that it was as you said, a
pinch, an odd chill at the back of my neck, and even once a nudge
while I was going down the stairs.”

“What a bitch!”

Nancy was too nice to
agree, but I felt her affirmation. “It’s a good thing she didn’t
follow you from Jekyll. If Mable knew you could see her, she’d
latch on to you just like she did with Percy.”

We both lapsed into silence.

I was thinking how shitty
my life could get with Mable hanging around. I felt she had a
mischievous nature and could easily imagine her dramatically
popping out like the fourth member of Charlie’s Angels,
interrupting me while I was peeing or something.

“
It’s very strange,” Nancy
began. I got a sense of discovery—her thoughts had obviously been
more productive than mine. “Percy never helped Mable cross the
veil, though he tried often enough. He was sure she had some
unfinished business, something holding her here.” Nancy didn’t
realize she was plucking threads from the tablecloth, too engrossed
in her thoughts to notice. “But I’m not so sure. I think what Mable
really wanted was to be seen.” Nancy’s fingers stilled and she
looked at me then. I could tell by the flurry of fleeting
impressions that she’d pieced something together, some idea I
couldn’t follow.

“
What?” I demanded,
bothered that she would have to spell it out for me.

“
I don’t think it’s a
coincidence that the ghosts you’ve noticed changing have each been
in contact with someone gifted to see them.” I could feel her
growing more certain of her theory as she continued. “What is a
ghost anyway? No,” she interrupted before I could say a word, “more
importantly, what is a soul?”

I shrugged, clueless as to where this was
going.

“
A soul is the combination
of spirit and body,” she said intently. “And ghost is just another
word for spirit. So you have these incomplete beings drifting
around without their bodies, unable to make a mark in our
world.”

I scoffed, “And what? You
think I’m giving them back a piece of their soul?”

She sat back in her chair, totally satisfied,
and simply said, “Yes.”

“
That’s a bit far-fetched,”
I chided.

“
Our bodies are the
instruments through which we influence the world. Spirits lack
bodies, but if you see them then they don’t lack influence. Through
you they can change things. And yes,” she said firmly, “maybe that
control gives them back a piece of their soul.”

“
Then why aren’t all the
ghosts Percy saw, you know, soulier?”

“
Mable was the only ghost
he saw frequently, she was around for years. The others he’d try to
help, and if he couldn’t, he moved on. It makes perfect sense,” she
said, growing more excited. “Percy could only see the ghosts, but
you can see
and
feel them. With you they can communicate, truly express
themselves. It would explain why your ghosts have grown strong so
quickly, they’ve probably surpassed Mable a hundred times
over.”

I ignored the satisfaction
she gleaned from her own remark. Instead I said, “How come Percy
never figured this out?”

“
He could only see Mable,
so their communication process was stinted and difficult. Gathering
the pieces of her soul must have happened slowly over the course of
years. He probably didn’t notice the change because it was so
subtle and slow in coming.”

“
You know what that means?”
I asked, growing equally excited. “There are other people out there
who can see ghosts!”

Nancy was confused, so I
tried to explain. “Ghosts haunt things. They appear in cemeteries
and rattle the pipes in creepy houses. I’m sure, like psychics,
most ghost stories are full of shit, but a few must be real. And if
a ghost can do those things then it means it got that strength from
somewhere.”