-1-
“Me… llamo es Jonah ?”
“No. Just me llamo Jonah,” she corrects.
“Me llamo Jonah ?”
“Bueno,” she laughs
Of all of the random girls Ethan has paraded through numerous family events, I think Jane has to be one of the nicest. Maybe in the top five. She’s a junior and majoring in Spanish with plans to become a teacher. She’s also blonde and short--which isn’t Ethan’s usual type. He usually goes for the athletic, tall brunettes.
Jane pulls her Delta Nu tote bag across the red blanket we’re camped out on and offers me some trail mix from a pink Tupperware container. I take some and she turns behind to offer some to Dad who is sitting in the fold out chair a few feet away from us wrapped in a Red Sox blanket and listening to an audiobook.
He doesn’t notice her and she slowly retracts her arm. I give her what I hope is an encouraging smile, as she turns back to check her phone.
At the steel barrier in front of us a handful of cyclist make their way towards the finish line, Jane whips her head around and I follow her gaze. None of them are Ethan, but I’m sure ( I hope, really) he will making his way around soon. I cram the remaining trail mix in my mouth.
“Dad! Dad!,” I call shaking his shoulder.
“Did he cross ?,” Dad asks clicking off the phone and ripping of the headphones.
“No, but I think he’s about to.” I say
We make our way to the front of the barrier as a few more cyclist come through, slapping hands and raising their fists as they cross the finishing line.
A dread seeps into my stomach as the clock ticks to two hours.
“Did he cross yet ?,” Dad asks.
“No,” I say
“Shit,” He curses and then makes a vague gesture in Jane’s direction. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she smiles
We watch as a few more cyclists come through before I spot my brother, his face is stained deep pink and he already looks pissed.
“ETHAN ! Wooo !,” Jane shouts holding up her ‘GO ETHAN!’ sign and waving her hands as he passes us. He doesn’t even look up.
After crossing the finish line, Ethan loops back around to our spot. Straddling his bike, he takes his sweat drenched shirt off and Jane catches him in a hug. He returns her hug with a slight pat on the back.
“Good job, son.” Dad says coming in behind Jane to hug him. “You did good.”
I kind of lurk behind. I've gone 4 months without being made to hug my brother and I don't think either of us wants to break that streak.
“That sucked,” Ethan says, throwing his helmet on the ground and taking a drink from his water bottle. “Damnnit. I just fell behind in the swim and couldn’t catch back up.
“It’s just for charity” Jane says. “It’s no big deal.”
Ethan rolls his eyes. For most people coming in the top 5% of a triathlon for breast cancer would be something to smile about, but not Ethan. Usually he’d lose his temper by now and start yelling and blaming other competitors , but I guess he was on his best behavior for Jane.
“I’m done. Let’s go,” he says to Jane, his fingers lightly gripping her waist.
“What about the awards ? I think they want to recognize you,” Jane says
“I don't want to get up there.”
“Okay, who wants lunch ?,” Dad asks, probably happy to get out of the cold. “I’m meeting Monica at Blue Ginger for sushi and you are all invited. On me.”
“Nah,” Ethan says. “I’m going to grab a shower at the University of Boston Sigma house and then I’m taking Jane to the Greek store on their campus. I think we’ll hang out there.”
“And I have to get back to campus.” I speak up. Even though I loved Blue Ginger, I’d made plans.
“Come on, we’re in Boston, Jonah. It’s the weekend. Are you sure you don’t want to do something ? You don’t have to be with Monica and I,” Dad says.
“I have this project I have to do. Can I just come back and get you ?”
If Dad is disappointed or relieved he doesn’t let it show.
We all part ways and I call Corrine the Barista on Bluetooth while I steer the Prius onto the highway. She doesn’t pick up right away and I’m assuming she’s deciding if she still wants any part of this or not. I’m sure she thinks I’m crazy.
And not just because of the whole seeing dead people thing. But because she must think I’m the kind of guy who can afford to randomly give his local baristas a 40 dollar tip. I'm so not that guy. I just I didn’t know what else to do with the cash people gave me for playing on the bridge so I paid it forward.
Plus she’d always been nice.
“Hey,” she finally answers the phone.
“Hey, it’s me. Um, Jonah Morrow. I’m just seeing if you still want to meet ?”
“Yeah. What ? Did you think I plan to stand you up?”
I did, actually but I don’t say it.
“See you in 30 minutes,” I remind her and hang up.
***
-2-
-2-
When I first saw Abigail in the crowd at the bridge, I knew there was something different about her. At first I thought it was the way she made direct eye contact with me. My mouth had involuntarily smiled and she came towards me, moving effortlessly through the crowd. So effortlessly, she was literally going right through the crowd.
My heartbeat was in my ears by the time she reached me, she grabbed my arm gently and I thought she was going to go through me too, but she felt solid and warm. She smelled like sandalwood and flowers. Her eyes were getting wet and her mouth stayed parted for nearly a minute.
“I love that song,” she'd said
“Thank you,” I'd said, my violin and bow on either side of me.
She'd smiled up at me quickly.
“Can you see me,” she asked, but it’d been less of a question and more of a confirmation. Her eyes widened in anticipation of answer.
“Of course.”
Our eyes lock in a way, eyes aren’t supposed to lock with a stranger. I think we were both afraid if we blinked one of us would disappear and my bets were on her. I should have been scared, but I wasn’t, I felt a kind of peace.
I was lost in a daze as she led me to a bench, it was amazing the way she moved between people who moved around me. The whole world seemed to have forgotten her, which seemed terrible because as I know now she loved the world.
“Are you okay?,” I'd asked her because she seems so fragile.
“I don't know...you’re the first person whose ever seen me in….,” her thought trails off. “In I don’t know how long.”
She looked like she was going to cry so I put an arm around her and her head instantly goes into my shoulder.
"How is this possible?”
“I don’t know,” she told me her voice quivering. “I think I'm dead. I mean know, I know I died.I just don't remember how or why I'm the only one around here. I just don't know, but I'm so happy you can see me.”
“How long have you been here ?"
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “But I know it's been a while. It's so strange...who are you ? Are you like a priest or something, maybe ? Do you know what I am ? "
"No, I don't. I'm just Jonah," I'd told her. "But, maybe I can still help figure out what happened to you."
Her dark brown eyes dart around.
“I don’t know. It’s getting fuzzy...sometimes I fade, like falling asleep. Can we meet tomorrow at this time ? Please.”
I nodded my head.
“What’s your name ?”
She really thinks about it before she tells me.
“Abigail!” she'd exclaimed. “Sometimes I forget. Don’t let me forget.”
And then she ran and disappeared.
I didn’t know what to think, but when I came back the next day she was there and we talked about her being dead, but then she clammed up and it turned into us watching parasailers. She felt so real. When she drank the lattes I brought her , no one seemed to be gawking at the mysterious floating cups. But when she walked up to people they completely ignored her.
Her existence defied any rules I'd known about reality.
---
I pull the Prius over in the lot next to the Strauss Bridge and wait until I see Abigail. She appears like she was just walking from the other side. She wears different outfits every time I see her. This time it’s a yellow leather jacket over a black skirt with a creased white shirt.
Even though she’s never seen me in my car, I don’t have to honk to get her attention. Her gaze instantly finds. She rushes into my direction and whips the back door open.
“Hi, Jonah,” she greets me, not at all out of breath.
“Hi. So...the barista I told you about should be here soon. Her name is Corrine.”
“Okay,” Abigail says quietly laying her curls down flat.
“Um, hey,” I say.
“Yeah ? ”
I don’t know how to say the next thing without sounding like a jerk.
“Just a heads up, she has this really big...um, birthmark on her face.”
“Birthmark ?,” Abigail asks apprehensive.
“I don’t know. I thought I’d tell you so it’s not weird--”
“I feel like I’ve already made it weird by being dead.” She jokes.
I involuntarily laugh.
“That her ?,” Abigail asks pointing.
I look up to see Corrine’s black hair blowing wildly away from her face in the autumn wind. She is walking across the bridge looking back and forth and a little pissed off in a bright orange puffy jacket .
Her face is deathly pale and from this distance I really get a look at the dark red stain on her skin. It looks like it should be painful, it starts under her her check and spills down her neck.
I honk the horn and when she sees my car she makes a sprint for it.
“Cute car,” Corrine quips breathlessly, getting into the backseat. I don’t know if it’s meant to be facetious.
“It gets great mileage,” I retort.
She tucks an expensive looking cross necklace back into her shirt. It fell out when she was running.
Is that why she's here ? Some kind of religious thing..
“I told my.... roommate Sev.... you were assigned as my... tutor for biology so if anything happens to me she’ll...come after you.” Corrine informs me through huffs.
“I’m not even taking biology.”
“Good. That’ll be the first clue something is wrong if she has to come looking for me,” she teases.
“Do you really think I’d hurt you?,” I ask. “I see you at the coffee shop nearly every day.”
“I’m just letting you know,” she says.
Corinne turns to Abigail and holds out her hand. They shake and I see doubt cross over in Corinne’s eyes, but she doesn’t mention it.
“Where to, ladies?” I ask.
“The Thinking Cup?,” Abigail suggests.
“No way,” Corrine vetoes. “ I work there. They may try and give me an extra shift.”
“The student center ?,” I throw out.
“No, people may overhear,” Abigail counters. “Do you have a dorm room, Corrine ?”
“Yeah, but my roommate and her team mates are there-”
“What sport does she play ?,” Abigail asks.
“No, it’s her team for this dumb radio competition--,” Corrine begins
“What, the SEX thing ? Why is it dumb ?,” I ask
“Ew, a sex competition--,” Abigail begins.
“N-n-no, it’s a radio--,” I try and save
“Jonah, you’re going to get a ticket. We need a place to go,” Corrine gets us back on track.
“Right. How about my house ? No one’s there and it's not far,” I offer.
“I’m not leaving campus with you. No offense,” Corrine vetos.
I admit, I’m actually kind of enjoying that she’s cautious about me like she’s intimidated by me. I’m the guy who little kids always want to talk to in the mall, I gets asked to watch stranger’s cars at gas pumps while they go inside atleast five times a year
We sit in silence for a while.
“Okay, I have an idea,” I say.
-3-
I make a small U- turn and park the car in the single space in front of Rischman House. The building should be empty since it’s Saturday and I guess part of me thinks what Professor Barrett said about it being spiritual might be helpful or something for what we’re doing.
Whatever the hell it is we are doing.
I jump out the car first and I notice we have background music. It’s something on the cello and it sounds modern and lilting and beautiful, but I don’t know it.
“Are you for real ?,” Corrine asks when I'm at the passenger door.
“I mean, it's Saturday, the building should be empty--”
“No, the door,” she interrupts.
Without thinking I had opened her and Abigail’s doors for them. It was something Grandpa and Uncle Sam always did and even Dad when he could.
“Oh, sorr-”
“No, it’s sweet,” Abigail says quietly.
“Do you think I’m too delicate to open a door ?,” Corrine asks with a raised eyebrow.
God, she always seemed nicer at the coffee shop.
“I’m kidding,” Corrine says shutting the door with her hip.
I force a smile and lead the girls around to the back of the house (because the front door doesn't work I explain to Corrine), where a pair of cello students are sitting on the small back porch of the building playing together.
I kind of hate how good they sound, even in the cold weather.
Before we get to the door Abigail runs ahead of us and on to the porch. She gets face to face with one of the cello players. He looks older, probably a senior, with short blonde hair in a neat cut. It’s a chilly 40 degrees out, but he’s just wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and scarf.
“I love this song. It’s from one of my favorite movies. Do you know it ?,” Abigail says to the blond cellist and he doesn’t react.
She touches his face with her bare hand and even though her hand makes contact with his face, but he doesn’t react. She plays with his eyelashes with her thumb and he doesn’t even flinch. She finally blows lightly into his eye and he looks up. But not at Abigail .
He looks at Corrine and I.
Their song had ended.
“You two lost ?,” he asks.
“No, um, we just need to get inside to, um--,” I begin, but I’m cut off.
“Hurry up, we don’t have all day.” Corrine saves me and charges inside the house. She’s careful to leave space so Abigail can slip in too.
“Never explain anything to anyone if you don’t have to,” Corrine tells me once we are inside. “It’s like rule number one of lying.”
Before I can ask her how many rules for lying she has she turns to Abigail.
“What was that ? Why did you do that to those guys ?,” Corrine asks.
“I saw the doubt in your eyes in the car….and wanted to skip to the proof part.”
Corrine looks speechless.
For once.
“That was pretty... scary,” she says softly. “ I mean it must suck that no one can see you.”
“Well,” Abigail thinks and then her face brightens. “Well, you and Jonah can see me and that’s a start.”
I figure this isn’t the type of building that should be explored when maintenance is off, so we stay on the first floor and find an old practice room that is unlocked. There are a few loaner instruments still lying around. The room smells a little bit like mold and the windows are drafty, but it’s private.
I take a seat on the piano bench, Corinne perches on the computer desk and Abigail just stands.
“So, um what did Jonah tell you ?,” Abigail asks making a small path around the chairs and music stands.
Corrine shrugs.
“Not much…just that you’re dead and so far only he and I have been able to see you.”
I listen patiently as Abigail fills in some of the blanks. She tells Corinne about how she has no memory of her life, and how I sort of promised to figure out what happened to her.
Abigail explains how she forgets a lot of things and sometimes she disappears, but she knows her name is Abigail. No last name.
Just Abigail.
I hope Corrine doesn’t go running from this place, because I think I need her. Abigail and I have gotten along just fine, but I think she may open up better to another girl.
“Okay, well Jonah you were at campus security,” Corinne says. “ Did you find anything? Any, um, incidents reported in the last few years ?”
“You can say death,” Abigail interrupts. “It’s not like I feel dead or anything.”
Corrine nods her head.
“Okay. Deaths. Any of those ?,” she rephrases awkwardly.
I take out the green moleskin notebook from my bookbag. I’d gone to Campus Security and planned on finding all the information I could on girls who died on campus, but I was hit with a huge wall of bureaucracy. The clerk was happy to make some other suggestions like looking into the state death records or old missing persons records.
And I’d even tried that, but there was even more nos and even more paperwork.
Corrine crosses her arms.
“Abigail, what year did you go to Eastham ?,” she asks
“I don’t know.” She says. “ I’m sorry, I--”
“It’s okay,” Corrine says and walks around the room. “You mentioned that song those guys were playing outside was from a film. What movie was that?,"
“It’s called Spirited Away,” Abigail says. "It's animated."
Corrine shoots a look at me. “What year did that come out ?”
I take out my phone and look it up.
“2001.” I say and try and keep up. “So, we know you died after that movie came out.”
“What about his phone ?,” Corrine says, she’s getting excited “ Do you recognize it ?,”
I walk over and hand Abigail my iPhone.
I feel like an idiot for not thinking of asking her things, I’d always just wanted to give her time and let her tell me these things as they come up.
Abigail grips my phone hard and I wonder if she’s fading.
“This is that new iPhone, right ? The charger is different.”
“Yeah.” I say
“So… okay, that phone came out in Summer 2011, meaning you died sometime between Summer 2011 and 2012.” Corrine summarizes.
“You’re a genius !” Abigail says. "Wow, so I haven't been gone that long."
I start to think the same thing. But this still doesn’t get us anywhere.
“It’s great that we narrowed to a year, but how are we going to get the death certificate to get her ID ? It could take weeks to get access.”
“We don’t need them.” Corrine said. “Look at her she’s a pretty , young, and a girl.”
It hadn’t escaped me at all that they were both, in fact, pretty.
“I don’t follow,” I say.
“They probably ran the death in the Eastham Record.”
Of course. I was kind of hoping to avoid this particular resource. I know from first hand knowledge that The Eastham Record, Eastham’s pathetic excuse for a newspaper, was run with the best of intentions, but the whole thing was barely hanging on by a string.
It has devolved into AP stories, long winded editorials, advice columns and an entire backpage devoted to Greek life happenings. But It’d been around since 1887 so they had to keep it up.
And then there was Matty Saylo--the adviser.
“I know a guy may be able to help us.” I tell her. “ You’re pretty good at this finding people thing,”
“I like to keep tabs,” she replies. “Besides, if Abigail needs to get back somewhere I want to help.”
I hear my phone hit the ground and we both turn to see Abigail on the floor picking it back up. Instead of getting back up she stays hunched over on the ground.
I run over and kneel next to her, Corrine hovers over us.
“Are you okay ?”
She shakes her head.
“Yeah, I’m just tired…. here take it.” Abigail says giving me back my phone.
I kneel next to her and her head rests on shoulder. I can barely feel her. I know what is going to happen next.
“Hey, it’s okay, Abigail. It's okay.We’ll get you back-.”
Before I can finish she’s asleep and then she’s gone. She just fades away.
“Oh my god. What the hell?,” Corrine shrieks, standing where Abigail was once kneeling. “Is she coming back ?”
I just nod, I’d seen her do this a few times but it still leaves me speechless for a little while. Like I’ve just witnessed a tiny death.
The silence is almost immediately interrupted by my phone vibrating against the floor to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing. A photo Mom took off herself by mistake when we were at the beach last year shows up on the screen.
“ Should I go-” \
“No, it’s fine--,” I say. Mom just likes to give me her daily updates. “It’ll just take a sec.”
“Bonjour, Mom,” I answer.
“Hi, honey !,” she says and I can hear her smiling over the phone. It sounds fake. “I called to see how E’s race went. I can’t get him on the phone.”
“Oh, we all kind of split up after the race. Ethan and Jane--”
“Jane ?” she asks curiously.
“Yeah, you don’t know her, she’s nice--,”
“Well, I imagine she’ll be replaced by the time I come to visit," Mom laughs.
It’s so weird she says this. Not about Ethan’s girlfriend, we always make fun of his revolving door of girlfriends. But the way she says she’s visiting. How can you do that ? It’s your home.
“Mom,” I sigh, but my bets are on Jane being gone by Thanksgiving too.
Ethan’s love life is her favorite subject. I think it’s because if Ethan at least finds a wife in college they won’t feel like sending him to Eastham was just a waste of time.
“Well, Mom I gotta go, can I talk--”
“Oh, Okay, just let me talk to Dad really quick then. I got a new phone plan since I’ve been over here and I need to make sure they didn’t charge us twice.”
“Oh he-”
I’m about to say that he’s not with me, but I decide to backtrack. My mom's usual emotions range between slightly silly to pretty mellow, but I don’t think she needs to know Dad, who as far as I know is still her husband, is at one of her favorite restaurants with Monica the Poet.
“Um, he’s inside….we're at this reading,” I cringe when I turn around and remember Corrine is in the room.
“Oh. Okay,” Mom says. “I appreciate you doing things with him, Jonah. Anyone I know reading?
“No," I say quickly. "Just some up and comer showcase. Actually, someone I really want to hear is about to come up actually,” I stumble out and my face grows hot. I start pacing the room towards the piano.
“Okay, honey. Well, enjoy it, talk to you later. Love you.”
“Je ta’im,” I respond.
“Bye, sweetie.”
“Au Revior.”
“Cute.” She replies and hangs up.
The phone stings my hand. I hate that I have to lie to my parents, especially about each other.
"I didn't know dudes could blush," Corrine says quietly. She looks semi-amused.
I desperately search for a comeback, but come up empty.
“Sorry, I'm just joking...If you want I can tell you the other rules for lying,” Corrine adds.
“I just may need that,” I sigh. “Look, I’m sorry you had to hear tha-
“It’s fine, but what’s with the French ?,” she asks. I'm glad she changes the subject.
“My mom’s in France, she’s doing an exchange program where she teaches history and photojournalism at American University in Paris---”
“Wait, is she a professor here too ?”
“No, she teaches a community class at the the Waverly Arts and Culture Center and sometimes at the community college.”
Corrine actually looks impressed.
Photography had always been a hobby of Mom’s, she wanted to work at a magazine or newspaper. Then she meet Dad and kind of put her education on hold for a while and after they got married. He used his pull with Eastham to help her get bachelor’s and two Master’s at Eastham. But she’d still never picked up a camera professionally. She mostly wrote and lectured from a historical perspective.
She’s always seemed happy doing small classes and being with Dad until three months ago when she announced to Ethan and I over dinner that she was going to France.
“Well, not to be nosy, but I think the most important rule of lying is always cover your ass,” she says “When she calls your Dad he’s not going to mention going to mention a reading.”
“I’m not too worried.” I say. “They’re apparently incapable of calling each other.”
The words tumble out of my mouth with a little bite and I realize I’ve ramped the awkward up to eleven.
I prepare for an silence, only the room doesn’t go silent. My fingers had been idly playing the opening chords from a Fray song. I immediately back them away.
“Look,um, let’s pick this up on Monday,” Corrine suggests.
“Yeah,” I agree. “I’ll talk to my friend Matty and make sure we can get access to the Eastham Record database by then. We can look for any mention of Abigail. Want to plan for after your shift ?,”
“Sounds good,” she says. “How are we going to tell Abigail ?”
“Whoever sees her first, I guess.” I say. “She kind of just appears sometimes.”
“What ?,” Corrine says surprised. “What like she could just show up in my bedroom ?,”
“I don’t know.” I admit. “I mean she’s never done that to me. She’s just usually around campus.”
When we walk out the building the cello players are gone, I offer her a ride but she lives in the dorm just across the way.
“Oh, and be prepared if it catches up with you,” Corrine says
“I'm sorry ?” I ask
“That’s the third rule for lying.” She explains. “I just thought of it.”
----
A/N
Anachronism #952 : The iPhone came out in Fall 2013 not Summer 2011.
Also, no Abigail is not based on a BH character.