The Night Tourist (10 page)

As Euri led him through a series of tunnels toward the outer edges of the underworld, Jack fingered the map in his pocket. He’d felt certain that the living man who’d come here before had been his father. But the dates made it impossible.

He followed Euri into a small, brick room with an arched roof that reminded him of a wine cellar. “Where are we?” he asked.

Euri pointed to a lone chair and gestured for him to sit. “In a room under one of the pillars of the Brooklyn Bridge.”

Jack looked up and tried to imagine the bridge soaring above him, cars packed on it in their morning commute. But inside the bridge, it was quiet and dark. He took off his backpack and stifled a yawn. “Did you want to tell me something?”

Euri froze. “Maybe you’re tired. You should sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I only have one more night left. Is it about the circle?”

“Yes,” Euri said.

She paused, and Jack waited for her to continue. “The circle means suicide. I have a circle.”

He tried to look as understanding as possible, knowing she was watching for his reaction. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s no big deal. Except for the fact that I’m dead.”

“How did you . . . ?” he asked awkwardly.

“I was hit by a train,” Euri said. “I know, familiar story, right?”

“Why?”

Euri shrugged. “Because I jumped in front of it.”

Jack shook his head. “No, I mean, why did you do it?”

“Listen, I’ve told you about the circle,” she snapped. “That’s all you need to know. It was my own stupid fault.”

She floated over to a corner of the room and pretended to inspect some bricks poking out of the wall. Jack heard a soft sniffle, and before he could stop himself, he stood up. “Euri.”

“What?” she said without turning around.

He wanted to tell her how no one had ever shared such a deep secret with him before—and how it made him feel, for the first time, like he truly had a friend. But this was too hard to explain. “There’s this Latin word in the
Metamorphoses: occidere.
It could mean ‘to be killed’ or ‘to perish’ . . .” And then suddenly Jack remembered another meaning of
occidere
that he hadn’t considered before. “Or,” he quietly added, “‘to die by one’s own hand.’” He searched for the right words. “But my interpretation is ‘to perish.’ Whatever happened, I don’t think it was your fault. It was an accident.”

She turned to him and nodded gratefully. “I want to go back.”

Jack didn’t know what to say. There was no way back for her.

A tiny voice emerged from the corner of the room. “Euri, are you sad again?”

Jack started. A small, towheaded child in a smocked dress hovered midair. “It’s not so bad here,” said the tiny ghost.

A dozen small children blew through the door and into the room like dandelion seeds. “Euri,” they called, echoing each other. “Don’t be sad.”

Euri waved them away, but Jack noticed that the corners of her mouth were fighting a smile. She floated back over next to Jack. The children drifted down around them and settled on the floor. They were elementary-school age, and several wore torn and tattered outfits. “Tonight we’re going to the play!” cried a boy in thick glasses and pajamas.

“Really, Wilson? The play?” Euri repeated. “That’s nice.” The girl in the smocked dress pointed to Jack.

“Who’s he?”

“This is Jack,” said Euri. Jack made an awkward wave.

“I’m Mary,” she said with a curtsy.

“Mary is older than everyone else,” said Wilson. “And especially me because I died last year.”

“I’m two hundred and thirteen,” said Mary. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” said Jack. The children laughed. “Are you still alive?” said a skinny boy in a long, dirty nightshirt. Even though they were just little kids, Jack felt annoyed. “No. I just died recently.”

“He looks alive!” declared the boy. “Eli, you’re being rude,” said Wilson to the boy. He adjusted his glasses and turned to look at Jack. “It’s okay. Some of the older ghosts think I look alive too. Are you going to come with us to the play?”

Euri shook her head. “I don’t think so,” said Jack.
A very tiny girl pulled on Jack’s pant leg and pointed to the ceiling. “But it’s about a man who came from up there.”

“From up where?” Jack asked.

“From the living world,” Mary interrupted. “Here, look. You can see the flyer.”

She handed Jack a thin paper announcement.
TONIGHT, AT 2 A. M., THE PLAY-IN-THE-PARK SERIES PRESENTS THE UNDERWORLD PREMIERE OF
THE BRIDE
’
S PLAY
, BY TENNESSEE WILLIAMS.

Beneath a black-and-white photo of a man clutching a woman in a passionate embrace, Jack read, “‘Based on true events,
The Bride’s Play
is a haunting new twist on Ovid’s classic tale of love between the living and the dead.’”

Jack looked at Euri. “Based on true events?” he repeated.

Euri shook her head. “Don’t get your hopes up, Jack. They have these plays every week. Gives the dead playwrights something to do. It’s not really true.”

“Yes it is!” shouted the littlest ghost.

For a moment Euri looked surprised. Then she pulled the tiny girl onto her lap and gave her a kiss. “Of course it is, Annie,” she said.

“Will you come with us, Euri?” asked Wilson. “You never come.”

“It’s just another story about how the dead can’t go back; just the living,” she said wearily “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, please!” begged Mary.

“Come on, Euri,” Jack said. “We’re out of clues.”

The child ghosts began to chant. “Please, Euri, come!”

Euri looked over her little crew. Then her eyes found Jack’s. “Okay, okay. Jack and I will come tonight, but we have to talk about grown-up things first. So go off, and we’ll meet you at your playground at one a.m. before the performance.”

A cheer rose up from the band of child ghosts as they floated into the air and tumbled through the door and back out to the maze of tunnels. “They’re just children,” Jack remarked after they had left. “It doesn’t seem fair. Why don’t they move on?”

“Because children have problems too,” said Euri, “and sometimes the younger they are, the bigger they feel.”

“I only have one more night,” said Jack, remembering his own.

“I know,” said Euri. “But let’s not think about that now. We’ll figure out something. In the meantime, you’re still alive. You need to get some sleep.”

Jack obediently lay down, balled up his jacket, and put it under his head. Euri floated above him. Jack closed his eyes then opened them. “Euri?”

“What?”

Euri had told him her secret—he could tell her his fear. “How could I have been destined to come here and not find my mom?”

For a moment Euri was silent. “Maybe that’s not who you were destined to find.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Never mind. I’m sure it is. We’ll find her tomorrow. Now get some rest.”

“I’m not really tired,” he protested. But the word “tired” was interrupted by a yawn, and as soon as he closed his eyes he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Just after sunset, Jack spiraled up through Bethesda fountain, his hand briefly losing contact with Euri’s as he shot out of the fountain and up over the park. As her fingers settled back around his, he realized this was probably the last night he would ever fountain-travel. He gripped Euri’s hand tighter and tried to take everything in. A yellow-tinged full moon drifted through the clouds, and there was electricity in the air that made the whole city seem expectant. Euri nervously scanned the snow-covered park for Clubber and the guards, but they seemed to be in another part of the underworld, hunting other souls. Only a lone, faint howl echoed across the park.

“So where are we going tonight?” Jack asked, trying to be upbeat.

“To haunt.”

Jack smiled playfully at her. “I thought you didn’t haunt.”

But Euri didn’t smile back. She began to fly swiftly across the park to Fifth Avenue. Soon, Jack recognized the apartment building with the stone cornucopia and garlands that they had haunted his first night in the underworld. Euri flew up to the penthouse and pulled him onto the living room window ledge. Through the window, Jack could see the familiar family tableau— the parents and the little girl sitting on the floor this time, playing a game by the fire. “They never go out,” Euri said through gritted teeth.

Jack pulled gently on her arm. “Euri, why are we here?”

Like his mother in the park, her eyes glazed over and she didn’t answer him. But Jack wasn’t going to give up. “Are they your parents?”

Euri turned around and looked at him solemnly. “No. My parents were nothing like them.”

Jack looked at her skeptically, but she didn’t blink. “What were your parents like?”

“They”—Euri thought for a moment—“didn’t notice me. They weren’t ever around. They hardly cared when I died.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“They forgot about me.”

“That would be impossible,” Jack said.

For the first time that evening, Euri smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t want you to go,” she said.

Jack put his arm around her. “You know what? Why are we standing out here?” He pointed through the window at the glittering tree and the inviting living room. “That’s ours too.”

“It’s not . . .”

“Take us in,” Jack insisted.

Euri reluctantly pulled him in through the window, and Jack ran over to the couch and threw himself on it. “Come on, Euri! Tonight it’s ours.”

Euri hesitated.

“Forget them,” Jack said, waving off the family.

Euri floated over and sat primly next to him.

“You won, Janie. It’s time for bed,” the man said.

“No, not yet!” the little girl cried.

Euri began to pick at her skirt.

“Relax,” said Jack. “Pretend you’re alive.”

“It’s going to snow more tonight,” the woman said, “and tomorrow I’ll take you sledding in the park.”

Jack pictured his mom saying the same thing. For a moment he felt as glum as Euri. There was almost no chance he would find her. But then he realized that he had found someone else. “Look, they’re going to bed,” he said as the man carried Janie out of the room and the woman followed. Euri gradually leaned against him. The fire crackled. As the clock ticked heavily in the silent room, Jack put his arm around her, wishing he could protect her from ever feeling unhappy or alone.

“Perhaps there’s something for us under the tree?” he said.

Euri rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure.”

He stood up and surveyed the toys and stuffed animals. Everything had already been unwrapped. His gaze wandered up the enormous tree, laden with elaborate silver-and-glass ornaments that reflected the white lights. He suddenly noticed one ornament resting near the top that was different from the rest—a faded construction paper angel with macaroni hair and a red-crayon smile. DEIRDRE was scrawled across the angel’s dress in a child’s tilted block letters.

“Did you find anything?” Euri asked.

“Yes,” said Jack. He picked up a stuffed bear and handed it to her.

“It’s not wrapped.”

“The wrapping paper is ghostly. You just can’t see it. There’s a big bow too.”

“Jack!” Euri said, pelting him with the bear.

Jack knew his joke was stupid, but for some reason they both started laughing so hard that he half expected the living couple to march in and tell them to be quiet.

“Come on,” Euri finally said. “It’s your last night. Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed his hand. “Where do you want to go?”

Jack hesitated. “Can we do anything?”

“Anything.”

“Let’s go sledding.”

“That,” said Euri, “is a ridiculous idea. I know just the place.”

Minutes later, they were standing on top of a sloped knoll in Central Park. Jack looked around. Behind them was a statue of a pilgrim leaning on his rifle and looking out over taxis rushing across the park at Seventy-second Street. Over the tree line on Fifth Avenue, Jack could see apartment buildings jutting up into the sky. At the bottom of the hill was a walking path, and beyond that, a large man-made oval pond. “I remember this place.”

“It’s Pilgrim Hill. Everyone in New York goes sledding here.”

Jack peered down the hill. A few living people hurried along the path, but no one living or dead was sledding. Euri craned her neck at something leaning against a tree near the bottom of the hill and took off in the air.

“Where are you going?” Jack called after her.

She didn’t answer, but as she swooped back up the hill, Jack could see she was carrying a large, orange plastic object in her hands. “Luckily, one of the living left a sled,” she said when she reached him, dropping it onto the snow. “You’re in back,” she directed. “Put your arms around my waist.”

As Jack climbed in behind her, he could feel his heart beating with anticipation, just like when he had gone sledding with his mom. “Give a push,” Euri ordered.

Jack pushed off against the snowy ground and they scooted forward past bulbous tree trunks. The sled began to slide down the hill, and as they gained momentum it bounced over the snow. Jack clutched Euri and grinned up at the night sky, watching the spindly tree branches and the clouds blur overhead.

“Here comes a big bump!” shouted Euri. “Hold on! Hold on!”

They hit a pile of snow and flew into the air. Jack braced himself for the shock of landing, but they kept flying higher and higher. Euri shrieked as they sailed over the walking path at the bottom of the hill. Then the bottom of the sled scraped against tree branches, and Jack realized that they were flying over trees and the roof of a small brick kiosk, toward the frozen pond. Jack felt his stomach flip as they began to plummet back to earth. With a shout, he closed his eyes.

The sled landed with a thump and began sliding quickly. Euri was laughing, and Jack opened his eyes just as they skidded to a stop. They were at the far end of the frozen pond in front of a snow-coated statue of Alice sitting on a toadstool, surrounded by the Mad Hatter, the Cheshire Cat, and the White Rabbit.

Euri turned around to look at him. “I probably should have told you that sledding is a little different when you can fly. Are you all right?”

For a moment Jack didn’t speak. Then, over his own racing breath, he found his voice. “Again,” he said. “Let’s do it again.”