Dawn peeked through the holes of the blinds and dashed across the wall like a silent firework display. I stretched my way out of the sheets and glanced at my slumbering wife. She was so peaceful lying there as her sheets rose and fell with her every breath. I imagined the sheets as an ocean and she, the tranquil tide. Sometimes in my sleep I’d smile; how did I become so lucky?
Occasionally I awake finding her hovering over me laughing as chocolate locks of her hair brushed over my nose, “I don’t think there’s a man who smiles in his sleep more than you.”
I thought about kissing her as she slept but I didn’t want wake her so early on a Saturday. We’ve been married for about a year and even though veteran couples warned us about the pitfalls of marriage, we decided to stop listening. I still worried though. I loved her deeply that I couldn’t live with myself if I brought her pain. Somehow knowing that neither one of us wanted to make the other suffer made it easier to love.
Between each other’s work schedules and the everyday chores of living, time slithered through our fingers. This day we decided we’d be intertwined in each other’s hands as though the moment lasted forever. We mapped out the entire weekend like a treasure hunt. We had to make a stop at the animal shelter—at her request—even though she promised we wouldn’t go home with a dog. It’s not that I have something against them, but maybe I was being selfish with the time I had with my wife.
We had to stop at that new game store down the street that was the holy haven of every gamer’s fantasy. My wife always comments on how big the character’s boobs are. I comment on how big the swords are. Ching ching, I slash you through the throat, ohh! And you through the leg! Take that, and that! I couldn’t wait for the day to begin.
Maybe that’s why I got up so early. Maybe that’s why I decided to jog that morning.
Had I known when I left the house that morning that I wouldn’t return, I would have kissed her good-bye. I’ll never have that moment back.
A car sped through the crosswalk as I jogged across it, blind to the tragedy that would soon occur. I knew that when the bumper hit my legs it was over. The last sound I heard wasn’t the car screeching to a halt but a sharp crack of my neck that echoed from the inside out.
Rest in Peace, the reverend had said. What a funny way to put it; did he see her face? Did he see my newly wedded wife’s face? How could anyone rest in peace with a guilt fizzing in the core of their throats?
I saw the light people talk about. Yet as beautiful as it was, I couldn’t bring myself to step into it. I couldn’t leave her behind to face her misery alone.
I wished every night when she fell asleep by her own tears that my remorse would travel between our two worlds. I wanted to see her laugh that brilliant smile I love so dearly. I wanted to embrace her beauty when her eyes glowed with a passion so vibrant it could paint a masterpiece. I wanted to press my lips upon hers holding the memory like a page in a scrapbook we thought we’d finish.
I remember the day we met for the first time.
I was sitting by myself reading the newspaper while coffee spiraled like a dizzy dream inside my mocha mug. That’s when he came in. The air suddenly tasted sour. He was tall, tan, and built as he exposed every arm muscle like a trophy. His Hanes white shirt hugged his figure and strained against his chest like a model’s lingerie. I swallowed allowing the chair to consume me. With feeble hands I shifted my newspaper shield higher to cover my apprehensive face. I was anything but built and couldn’t pass as a husky guy, either. I was just an Average Joe. Gosh, even the man’s jet spiked hair was intimidating.
He stopped scanning the menu and ordered something that sounded appeasing. He seemed more interested in the clerk behind the counter. I think she knew because she became increasingly nervous. It sickened me when he spoke to her like an object of his prized collection.
She pasted a smile on her face, “There’s your coffee, sir. Be careful it’s hot.”
“Not as hot as you, sugar.” He leaned over the counter into her space while winking an eye. I hated how he said sugar.
She backed away cautious and he continued.
“Say, why don’t you and me hang out at my place after your shift?” He sipped his coffee while obviously flexing a bicep.
She took a glance and dimpled her brows together dissatisfied but softened them before responding, “No thank you, have a good day.” She made a final reply backing away from the counter anxious for the man to leave.
He grew frustrated with her answer and clasped her wrist into his massive hands.
“Hey!” I barked thrusting my toothpick body out of my chair. What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t back out now. “Leave her alone.” I chucked my newspaper on the table and marched over to them covering my anxiety.
“Oh,” he said in a tone like I suddenly looked like better meat. He thrust her wrist back, “What could you possibly do.” He chuckled examining my scrawny figure.
I had to think of something quick otherwise he was going to drag me down some secluded alley way and that would be the end of me.
“I’m a detective,” I was surprised by my response and the lies kept coming, “of the county’s police department. I advise you to leave this young lady alone.” I narrowed my eyes tempting him to continue. I felt as masculine as he looked. “It would be best if you left the premises.”
He glared at me debating on calling my buff but then decided he ran into police officers too often. He wasn’t about to add another foolish act to his record. He muttered curses under his breath slapping his money onto the counter and stomped out without catching anyone’s eye.
She smiled at me, “You’re not really part of the police department, are you?”
I laughed nervously as the coward returned, “No...”
I felt a fizzing sensation rise from the hardwood floor and through my toes enriching my veins with sheer happiness. I couldn’t help but smile, what a perfect soul.
Her name was Scarlet and suddenly that was the most beautiful name known to man.
***
During the nights after my burial, I heard her desperate dreams whispering my name, even as the weeks bled into months.
“Ryan.” She said so faint it sounded like the silence of winter when the sky blackened. “Why did you leave me?”
A throb of agony pressed through my cold skin like stick pins in a voodoo doll. I sighed hoping misery would escape with my false breath, but I knew it wouldn’t. I glanced out into the shadows of the night’s alluring sky. Snow had fallen when I wasn’t watching. It was so fresh that it blanketed the yard and the street like a sparkling piece of rolled dough.
I limped over to the window, unwilling to move, and I glanced out into the dim street. I asked myself questions I’ve been asking forever it seemed. Was I being selfish because I didn’t want to leave? Was I keeping her from moving on? Was I useless as I lingered? Could she feel my presence as she pushed herself through life?
Her face grew thin, cheeks hollow, and eyes dull as time progressed. She was a shell so weary that I couldn’t bare it anymore. I pressed my hand on the glass feeling defeated. I had to find the answers to my questions. I had to find someone who could understand.
The sun raised the same it did the day before. I pressed my cold weightless body on the surface of the bed staring at her tormented face and swollen eyes from crying. A shadow caught my eye as it flew across the window. I figured it was a bird but this didn’t surprise me. Something was left on the glass, something that I couldn’t understand.
My hand print as visible as the shimmer of snow, peered at me. How—I wondered as I jolted upwards and stared at a curious distance—was this even possible? I had touched everything, moved whatever I could and nothing would recognize my existence. Why would this window, this thin piece of glass capture my existence? How could it know I was here? I wasn’t about to waste time questioning. I glanced at my wife with a surge of excitement as though she could see me. A window of opportunity never spoke to me more true than this moment.
As the day continued, I trotted alongside Scarlet anticipating when night fell since that’s how it worked, apparently. I played the words in my head. I’d spill my sorrow on the glass, my love, my worries...my loneliness. I wanted to write an entire novel upon the glass. Would she even notice?
I stood behind her desk like I did every day she went to work. Peering and observing her as she shuffled through papers. She was always organized, everything had to have a right place otherwise she couldn’t function. Now her desk was a pile of papers, like the pile of dishes, and the laundry that waited when she came home. Nothing was spotless anymore.
I stood there agonizing over her frustration. Often times the paper she was searching so desperately for was right in front of her. Eventually I stopped pointing realizing she couldn’t see me. She still had our wedding picture beaming at her from the corner of her desk.
“Scarlet.” A concerned voice approached us examining the mess Scarlet had created.
I remembered this man from a cocktail party. He was one of the other editors of this newspaper along with Scarlet. I never liked the guy, probably because he was too perfect. Clean shaven, pampered chestnut hair, and smooth pressed shirt. I smiled at myself as I found an imperfection. How silly a thing it was but a button had wiggled out of its’ hole. Or was he trying to look less intimidating. My jealousy returned at this thought.
“Scarlet,” He repeated soft as honey and eyes full of anxiety.
She sighed finally looking up at him, “Tom, I…” she paused. I could hear the faint crack in her voice.
He reached for her delicate hand from the other side of the desk. I clenched my jaw down hard. Who did he think he was?
“Hey!” I shouted but nothing changed. I hated being able to witness everything but unable to do anything.
“I’m sorry,” she said pulling away her hand and I grinned with satisfaction at her action.
“Don’t be sorry.” Tom said calmly and continued, “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been avoiding you for reasons I shouldn’t.”
I was drawn back by this. Was her sorrow so intoxicating that he had to get away from her?
“Gee, aren’t you nice, Tom. All she could ever say was nice things about you.” I huffed crossing my arms.
Scarlet looked up at Tom as confused as I was, “I thought you went to visit your ill mother?”
Tom sighed to himself with a hint of guilt. His broad shoulders collapsed. “She’s fine. I didn’t visit her.”
Scarlet shook her head, “I don’t understand.”
“It’s okay. Just know that I’m sorry.” He face twisted into doubt but why I wondered. Why avoid her?
I didn’t realize how nervous he was standing there; he never came across like this before. He was always so bold and brave but now he appeared to be on the verge of breaking.
Scarlet and Tom were close friends and not just co-workers. It worried me sometimes but I trusted my wife. It would have pained her to see his distress, if she wasn’t in pain herself.
He sighed trying to find the right words to say.
“Let me know,” he paused to collect himself and looked directly into my eyes. “If you need any help.”
There was no doubt about where Tom stared. He plotted his words in such a manner that it could be directed to both Scarlet and me without appearing out of place. I shivered with a shock so pure it felt like an illusive adrenaline rush.
“You can s—see me?” I couldn’t get the words out as they stumbled over my chatting teeth.
He lowered his eyes and his facial expression changed slightly knowing he couldn’t take this back. That’s why he said he left to visit his apparently not so ill mother. He wasn’t avoiding Scarlet, he was avoiding me.
He turned with a heavy sigh and headed back where ever he came from. “Wait!” I announced almost leaping over the desk to rush next to him.
“Not here.” He hissed.
That’s right; he would look like he was talking to himself in a room full of fellow co-workers. He still had his own life, his own worries, and a reputation to keep in tack. He seemed to say more things in fewer words. He did mention he could help, and he did mention that he’ll talk to me, just not here. This was an even bigger window of opportunity than the cold glass at home. I wasn’t about to lose sight of him.
“Ryan.” He said obviously annoyed as the day progressed. “I said I was going to help so stop hovering.” He knew his tone was harsh so he added a please before continuing. “People don’t normally believe in what I can do. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“I’m dead, what does it matter?”
“I meant Scarlet.” My shoulders slouched at this. I knew she would be hard to convince, so did Tom. “I didn’t mean anything by grasping her hand earlier. It just pains me to see her like this.”
“You have no idea.” I mumbled under my breath.
***
“Scarlet.” Tom whispered as she was getting ready to leave work behind. “I was curious if you were interested in a cup of coffee.”
Scarlet’s face was perplexed at this idea. She wanted to say no, I could tell, but she was too weak to argue with something so simple. She nodded allowing her lip to curl into a fictitious smile.
She never liked coffee which I found somewhat amusing because she used to work in a café. She just liked the vanilla drinks.
“Tell her you’ll get her the vanilla drink with extra ice.” I said to Tom who looked at me weary, but thought this might help.
She nodded slightly surprised by Tom’s knowing of this drink. I sat next to Scarlet’s tattered soul whispering, “I love you.” Knowing she couldn’t hear me.
“Here you go, Scarlet.” Tom said forcing a smile; I could see his nerves taking a toll on his hands. He glanced at me tucking them beneath the table.
“Thanks Tom.” Scarlet smiled swooshing the straw against the ice and taking a hesitant drink.
“So, how do you tell someone about your gift?” I asked Tom knowing he really couldn’t answer me.
“Scarlet,” Tom began as he looked up at her tentatively. “I want to explain why I’ve been avoiding you.”
She licked her lips and bit down preparing herself, “Whatever it was Tom, it’s quite alright.”
Tom looked around the room searching for the words, “I have this…gift.”
Scarlet smiled half way, “Are you superman?”
Tom laughed, thankful that she broke the ice with her humor. Even I smiled.
“No, I’m not superman.” He flexed a bicep. “I don’t have those kinds of guns.” He rubbed his neck pausing, “I can…see and talk to…” he swallowed hard catching her patience eyes, “ghosts.”
Scarlet’s body became stiff and the color from her face lighten.
“What are you trying to say, Tom?” Her voice was guarded, like she did when we use to argue.
“Tell her I’m here.” I pleaded.
Tom hesitated, “Ryan’s here.”
“This isn’t funny.” Scarlet thrashed a cold tone.
“Did you know she didn’t like coffee?” I asked Tom anxious.
Tom got the hint, “How would I know you liked vanilla drinks with extra ice?”
“Tom, don’t do this, I can’t take this.” Scarlet winced as she got up.
“Tom,” I searched for the answers, “tell her that the first time we met was at the café she worked at.”
I waited for Tom to say this and when he did, Scarlet stopped in her tracks.
“Tell her a man was hitting on her and I stopped him.” Tom mimicked me, eager to get Scarlet to understand.
“How did Ryan stop him?” Scarlet asked curious of Tom’s answers as she eased back into the chair. Tom looked over at me.
“He was a detective,” Tom announced to Scarlet, “of the county’s police department.”
Her eyes widen and the color left her face again. I could tell she believed him. I could tell that he would give her all I wanted her to know and I could tell that everything would be okay.
“What else does he say?” Scarlet pleaded with struggling eyes.
“Tell her to look on the window in our room.” I paused searching her impatient expression. “Tell her I wrote a message, just for her.”
I was going to tell her as I sleep an eternal rest I’m smiling, like she always said I did. This time I was going to kiss her good-bye even if she couldn’t feel it. She would know.
----Image supplied by Corbis Phtography, Titled: "Phantom #14", Photographer: Elisa Lazo de Valdez----
