The Ghost in Love (25 page)

“Get out of here—scram!”

The cat looked at the old woman, Danielle Voyles's snoopy neighbor, in the stuck-up way cats do that makes you want to strangle them. The woman's voice got louder, more commanding: “You heard me—
get!
”

Another cat appeared near the first, an even uglier one. Black and orange, it looked like a Halloween leftover. How had two stray cats gotten into her building? It must have been the landlord—him and that flea-infested cat of his. Maybe he'd invited these two characters over for dinner. Maybe they were all going to make a night of it: cat food for dinner and then a few hours of TV together.

Not if she had anything to say about it. As she took a firm step toward these trespassers to show them who was boss, three big fat rats came into view behind the cats. All of the animals now started moving toward her like a bunch of bad guys in a cowboy movie. Rats she didn't mind. They were clever and nasty and knew what they wanted. Sort of like her. She admired them for their grit, but not
now. Five animals were coming at her, and who knew what nefariousness they had planned. Everyone knows how dangerous animals in packs can be. It didn't matter one bit to her that this pack consisted of two cats and three Norwegian rats. Five animals with teeth were five animals with teeth. Fumbling the key back into the lock, she threw open her door and scurried inside.

None of the animals cared that she had seen them. They would be out of the building in minutes and, short of attacking them with a weapon, there was nothing she could do in so little time. They continued down the hall until they reached Danielle Voyles's apartment. All five got down low and put their noses against the crack at the bottom of the door. Almost as one, they inhaled deeply.

About that time, Pilot climbed the last stair and was on their level. He had just caught sight of the group down there when every single one of them turned from Danielle's door and came racing as fast as they could toward the staircase and Pilot. The expressions on their faces were pure terror.

“Wait!” was all Pilot managed to say before they blew by him, down the stairs to the basement, out the hole in the window, and right the hell out of there as fast as their legs could go. Racing down the sidewalk, one of the rats was so frightened by what it had smelled that it had a heart attack and died. His temporary comrades didn't even bother looking back at the twitching body as they ran.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of Danielle's, the three people saw the animals race out of the building and watched silently as they fled into the distance. Except for the rat that died in flight from fright. Fortunately, that happened too far away for them to have seen it drop dead, scared to death. The two dogs that staged the bogus fight on the front lawn had left as soon as they knew the others had gotten into the building.

“Pilot's still in there. I wonder what happened.”

“Me too.”

“Should we go in?”

“He said to wait out here.”

“Yeah, but that was before them.” Ling pointed toward the stampeders.

Ben asked, “What do you think, German?”

When it came, the sound was piercing but not possible to recognize or define. None of them thought it was a scream or a cry for help. It was loud, disturbing, and mysterious.

“What the hell was
that
?”

The sound stopped German from answering Ben's question. They looked at the apartment building and then at one another with the kind of danger-alert eyes that silently asked, What
was
that?

Then it came again but was still unrecognizable. It could have been many things, only one being a dog crying out. The only sure thing was that the sound came from inside Danielle's building.

Too bad Ling was no longer a fully empowered ghost, because if she were, she would have recognized the sound. And then she would have run away even faster than those other animals had.

But Ben sensed something after hearing the sound a second time. He quickly touched the back of his neck as if he'd been stung there. “You two wait here. I'm going in there.”

Neither woman protested, but it wouldn't have mattered. Whatever it was that he had sensed grew stronger now and had his full attention. Distracted, he repeated what he had just said, “You two wait here,” and then walked toward the building without looking back.

German called out a halfhearted “Ben,” without really knowing what to say if he turned around. But he didn't. She was left with his name on her lips and the image of him walking away in her eyes.

Without thinking it might be locked, Ben turned the knob on the front door and it opened under his hand. He stepped inside to complete silence and shadows. He was not afraid, only curious.

Where were all of the people who lived here? There was always noise of some kind or other in an apartment building: comings and goings, the sound of conversations or laughter behind closed doors, TVs or music playing. But inside there now it was completely silent. Not a peep. Why? Where was the landlord? Minutes ago he'd been out on the front lawn, yelling at the fighting dogs. Where was he now? Which one was his apartment?

Ben walked to the staircase at the other end of the hall. Danielle lived on the first floor. That was where he would look. The silence around him continued as he climbed. The only sound was the
shuff
of his sneakers on the carpeted stairs.

On the first landing he stopped and looked both ways to see if there was anyone around. No. He started moving down the hall toward her apartment. Halfway there, music suddenly blared out from somewhere. It was a disco tune from the eighties that he recognized because it had been a favorite of his sister's: “My Forbidden Lover” by Chic. The music appeared to be coming from an apartment a few doors down from Danielle's. Walking slowly toward it, he remembered the snoopy old woman who'd made trouble when he was last here. Could it possibly be the music came from her place? An old grouch playing Chic?

Warily approaching the door to her apartment, he saw that it was open a crack. Because there was no other noise, he was certain the music came from in there. When he got close he tried to peek into the place, but the crack was too narrow. With the tip of his foot he pushed the door open a bit more for a better view.

In the middle of a cluttered living room an old woman was dancing
naked. Her back was turned to him. Ben saw the back of an old woman dancing naked to disco music. And she was really shaking it down. No Goody Two-shoes prissy gavotte/waltz/cha-cha-cha trash from her. At the moment he caught his first glimpse, she was dancing a difficult combination of the Bus Stop and the California Hustle. She was dipping her shoulders and rolling her hips. She added a little shing-a-ling thing with her hands. That move was her very own invention. She had created it one night while listening to Gloria Gaynor sing “I Will Survive” live at the Flip Flop Club in Bakersfield. To this day she swore Gloria had seen her doing that special move and nodded her approval of it
from the stage
.

That had been the greatest night of Brenda Schellberger's life. She was with Howard Smolakoff, the only man she had ever truly loved. When they got back to his apartment after dancing until three, Howard begged her to take off her clothes and dance just for him the same way she'd been dancing all night long at the club. She felt so sexy and alive, desired, and in tune with the cosmos that she didn't need to be asked twice. Dropping her clothes where she stood, she waited with fidgety hands on naked hips while Howard put on his one Donna Summer record. For the next fifteen minutes she danced nonstop without once looking at him to see his reaction. She didn't care. She didn't need an audience because she was dancing for herself, ecstatic, right in the center of the absolute center of the happiness of her life. She didn't need Howard's approval or appreciation or desire, although it was even better that he was there to share these glorious minutes.

She thought about that one-of-a-kind night for the rest of her dull life.

It was her touchstone, her one concrete assurance that splendid things can and do happen sometimes, even to people like her.

In the end Howard turned out to be a weak, phlegmatic mama's boy, unable to commit to anything, and who in time slunk out of her life. But the Howard at the end wasn't the same man she danced for that night.
That
night they were only a third of the way into their relationship. At that moment she was certain she'd found her man and was still basking in the glow of them working so well together. Everything was ideal that night; everything was sexy, triumphant, and right. The congruence of great things was beyond compare. That was why she repeatedly thought about those few hours for years to come. What Ben Gould witnessed through her partially open door was old Brenda Schellberger reliving the pinnacle of her life. After which it was all downhill.

The same thing was happening to every person in the building. No matter what their age, every one of them was in one way or another reliving the single greatest time they had ever known. And it would never end now because they never
wanted
it to end. Seeing that was what frightened the animals away minutes earlier. It was also what had made Pilot cry out so bizarrely when he grasped what was going on. All of this was Danielle Voyles's fault, as Ben was about to learn.

Of course
it was the quiet one. But it's generally that way, isn't it? The quiet girl sitting alone at the end of one of the picnic tables, reading a fat paperback book. The one who had dreamt the accident so many years before it took place. Danielle came back to her and asked the girl again if she had any questions about her life to come. The teenage reader closed the book on a finger and promptly replied no. Danielle was impressed because the others had had at least a few pressing questions and insights about their shared life. But not this one. It was plain from the look on her face that she didn't want to talk about the
future, ask about it, or know more than she already did. The only reason she had stopped reading now was good manners, not because she was curious—like all of the other Danielles—to discover what her future held.

“There's
nothing
you want to know? You don't have any questions?”

“No.”

“Jeez. Why not?”

“Because I'm so happy now. I don't want anything to change. I know it will, but I don't want to hear about it.” She shifted her book and a piece of paper dropped out of it, a photograph. The girl gasped and snatched the picture out of the air before it touched the wet ground. She checked to see that it was okay and then pressed it tenderly to her chest, as if to give it back some of her body heat.

Intrigued, the older Danielle asked if she could see. The girl handed it over. The woman recognized the person in the snapshot immediately. She looked from the picture to the girl. The two women smiled very much the same smile at each other.

Danielle looked at the picture one more time. Returning it, she said the magical name: “Dexter.” The girl nodded and slipped it back into her book.

Dexter Lewis was the great love of Danielle's young life. Sometimes as an adult she admitted to herself that relationship was the best she ever had. Dani and Dex. Dex and Dani. Love forever. Senior year in high school: Had she ever been happier or more content?

“I don't want to ask you questions because I don't want to know about my future. I want things to stay exactly like they are now and not move an inch.” The girl held up her paperback. “I have books, Dexter loves me, and things are perfect. I don't want it to ever change. But you'll say that it will, won't you? You'll tell me Dexter's going to
leave, or something terrible will happen to me, or him, or my family. I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear about what happens tomorrow. Why? How could tomorrow be better than right now?

“See these other women here now? I haven't asked any of them even one question about their lives. Not one. Nothing you or they know about my future could make me happier than right now. You'll only spoil it, no matter what you say.”

The girl was 100 percent correct. Dexter did leave eventually, bad things were going to happen, and nothing in her future
was
ever as perfect and fulfilling as her life was then.

“Has he taken you to the Lotus Garden yet?”

The girl's eyes softened. “Oh, yes! We went there two weeks ago for our three-month anniversary. It was the best meal ever. The food was so good. We ate in their beautiful garden with all the colored paper lanterns? It was like a dream.”

The lanterns. Danielle had forgotten about the delicate paper lanterns hung from the trees that swung in the evening breeze. She sat down next to the girl on the bench. “Would you tell me about it?”

“Why? You already know. You did it; you were
there
.”

“Yes, but it was so long ago. I've forgotten most of the details. I forgot about the lanterns. I'd love to hear about it again. Would you tell me?”

The teenager was glad to recount the whole story of the best night of her life. “I was standing at my locker in school. Dexter came up and said our anniversary is this weekend. What should we do to celebrate?”

Because the memory was so recent for her, the girl remembered almost everything: the colored paper lanterns in the restaurant's garden, the waiter without a tooth, and her lame jokes about the Chinese music playing in the background. She remembered Dexter
explaining to her that the word for “crocodile” derived from the ancient Greek words
“krokē”
and
“drilos,”
which meant—

“Pebbled worm,” adult Danielle said, remembering. Her younger self nodded and continued.

The more the girl talked, the more the adult recalled. And the more she remembered of that brilliant night, the less her present mattered. The adult Danielle completely immersed herself in the girl's details. It was like walking into a swimming pool, shallow end first. When the water rose over her head, she welcomed it; she willingly sank down until it engulfed her.