NOLA (8 page)

“Ooooooooh,” Brian babbled each time the children’s reading room came on the big screen.

Intrigued, Ted stopped the rotation and brought back the reading room.

“Ooh ooh,” Brian said again.

Ted quickly tested his theory and pulled up one of the other feeds.

“Ah ah ee am,” Brian resumed his practicing.

Ted brought back the reading room.

“Ooh ooh ooh,” Brian sang out.

“Do you see something?” he asked his infant son.

“Ooh.”

Ted clicked over to open channel.  “Cid, head for the children’s reading room.  Burt, I think something’s going on in there, but I can’t see anything on camera, over.”

“Then how do you know? over,” Burt responded.

“Brian makes a particular sound when Murphy is around.  He’s making it now when we view the reading room.  Humor me, over.”

“Team, this area’s dead.  Let’s go upstairs.  Mike, take some tri-spectrum shots.  Audrey, take readings.  We’re headed up, over.”

Ted left the reading room on the large monitor.  He continued to watch the other feeds as Brian oohed at the display.  “I think, my son, your mother and I are going to have our hands full with you.”

“Ah am,” Brian said a bit too clearly for Ted’s comfort.

Cid walked over to the glassed-in room.  He opened the door slowly and secured it by latching the hook into the eye mounted on the wall for this purpose.  He moved very slowly, hoping to pick up some kind of sound.  He felt a rush of air move by him.

“I felt something low move past me from the main library.  It couldn’t have been more than three feet high.”

“OOH!” Brian cried out.

“Cid, watch your back, over,” Ted warned.

Cid spun around in time to see the thin children’s books shudder and move off the shelf.  They landed one on top of the other, and a tower was built.

“Are you seeing this, dude?” Cid asked in a whisper.

“Yes, we’re recording.  Be aware, Burt and team are approaching, over.”

“Team, let’s hang back and let Cid interact with the entity,” Burt instructed.  He moved to film the moving books from a different angle than the camera trained on the room.

Audrey and Mike watched as Cid got on his knees and then sat down, watching the small tower being built.

“I get the feeling there is more than one entity here.  The books are moving away from the shelf at the same time others are being stacked,” Cid observed.

Audrey slid the digital recorder to Cid.  He moved it to a place between himself and the entities.

“Hello, my name is Cid.  We’re here at the request of…”

“Cid, you are talking to children,” Ted chimed in.

He started again.  “Hi, I’m Cid. Can I play too?”

The tower shuddered a moment.  Cid was afraid it was going to fall.

“I’m taller than you. I can help you build it taller,” he said.

A book moved from the stack into Cid’s hands.

“I’d say that was a yes,” Mike observed.

“What does it feel like?  The book I mean,” Ted hissed.

Everyone smiled as they could hear Brian oohing in the background.

It’s kind of cold, but no static like I would have guessed,” Cid said as he laid the book carefully on the stack.

The next book was passed to him, and he spied the title and couldn’t help asking, “Have you read
Green Eggs and...”

“HAM!”
shouted two distinct voices
.

The word echoed throughout the library.  Ted checked the return desk feed, and the ghost there hadn’t stopped.  This confirmed that it was indeed an echo.

Cid opened the book and read, “Do you like green eggs and…”

“HAM!”

The tower building had stopped, and Cid felt two distinct rushes of air move towards him.  He swallowed hard but continued to read.  Each time the word
ham
came up, he let the young readers say it.

Burt continued filming, advancing into the room.  Audrey moved quietly and sat down across from Cid.  Mike felt there were enough people in the room, so he hung back taking readings as the story was read.

“I do like green eggs and…”

“HAM!”

“I do like them…”

“
SAM I AM!”

The tower was demolished in the burst of energy.  Audrey started to pick up one of the books to replace it when she felt a cold hand on hers.

“Audrey, let them pick up after themselves,” Ted urged.

“I felt a hand.  The hand is little and so cold,” Audrey said sadly.

Burt motioned for her to move away slowly and out of the room.  He followed her, leaving Cid to pick up with the entities.  He motioned for Audrey to come closer and whispered, “They see Cid as a kid and you as his mother.”

“Oh,” Audrey said amazed.  “These aren’t the source of the thrown books,” she said confidently.  “Someone taught them to pick up after themselves, someone that loved them.” A tear rolled down her face.

Burt moved to catch it but remembered that Audrey had a boyfriend and, instead, handed her a Kleenex.

She mouthed a thank you and continued to cry silently as the entities cleaned up the reading room.

~

Amadour Hermes strutted out of the Funky Pirate feeling marvelous, or as marvelous as a dead person could imagine feeling.  He bent down and pulled up his red python boots, a bad habit of his.  A habit that had gotten him killed when he did it in front of a beer truck at the intersection of Royal and Canal Street.  He would describe the vehicle to the other
drifters
as a beer truck. He wouldn’t, however, tell them it had been a
Pabst Blue Ribbon
beer truck.  Coincidently, that was the beer that kept Amadour’s father drunk 24/7 until his death by way of a diseased liver.  Two generations of Hermes killed by PBR.

The street was full of tourists, mostly frat boys, but ladies, too, moved around in little packs.  Amadour followed the boys. They were young and perhaps had within them a few closeted gays.  Amadour didn’t come out himself until he was forty, so he understood their caution.  The boys weaved their way towards the expensive hotels.  Not feeling like trying to cross Canal Street this evening, Amadour reversed his tracks and headed towards Bourbon Pub and Parade.  He was in the mood to dance the night away.

He stopped to pull up his boots.  As he evened out the spandex, red python print, he noticed a pair of shiny wingtips stop in front of him.  He took his time rising, taking in the gangster style, dress pants that fell in a sharp line from narrow hips.  The wearer had forgone the jacket and stood there staring at Amadour in an open-necked white shirt.  The face of this creature was hea-ven.  The man’s close-cut black hair, blue eyes and caramel skin were unusual but interesting.  This man was too good to be true.  Amadour felt a stirring he hadn’t had in a dozen years.

“Hello, can I be of assistance?” the man asked.  His voice had a Chicago accent.  The way he chewed his words was almost theatrical though.

“Why yes, I was on my way to the Pub and Parade, but my boots keep falling down.”

“Maybe you need to take them off and put them on again,” the gangster suggested.

Amadour looked around and shook his head. “No benches.”

“My place isn’t far from here. Perhaps you’d like to take your boots off there…”

Amadour’s eyebrows lifted.  “Why not,” he said and grasped the arm that was held out to him.

Lone Sal witnessed Amadour’s conquest and shook her head.  He was always going off, not mindful of whom he was with.  She expected, because he was dead, he couldn’t get into any trouble, but still she worried about her friend.  She took off her stilettos and hiked up her tight skirt so she could move fast. She followed the couple as they moved swiftly down the street and into a museum of all places.  She decided to hang back in the courtyard, not wanting to disturb the two men.  She heard Amadour’s voice and the voice of the gangster as they climbed the stairs.  She heard the word “antique” bantered back and forth.

Lone Sal put on her shoes and smoothed down her dress.  She decided to check out the museum while she was waiting.  One never knew who was hanging around a beloved piece of furniture or jewelry.  She once talked for hours to an old dame from Paris, France.  She didn’t mind that her necklace had made it overseas to the pawnshop as long as her daughter-in-law didn’t have it.  Lone Sal thought that eternity was way too long to be holding grudges.

A sound from the stairs alerted her.  She saw Amadour move through the door.  He walked a bit too stiff; lord knows what went on up there.  She approached him and said, “You had me frightened, Amadour!  There are spirits going missing every night.  You have to be careful who you hook up with.”

Amadour turned his head, and blue, not brown, eyes stared at her.

She moved backwards.  Amadour smiled wickedly.  “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not my friend,” she accused, trying to move unsuccessfully through the thick brick wall.

“Amadour and I simply changed clothes.  He will be down in a minute,” the entity explained using Amadour’s voice.

“No, I don’t believe you.”

The entity sighed.  “Come see for yourself.” It placed the well-manicured fingers of Amadour’s hand on her arm.

Lone Sal followed the entity up the stairs.  She couldn’t help it.  Once the connection was made, she was helpless to escape.

They moved through a locked and bolted door.  The room was large and dusty.

“He’s not here.”

“Yes, he is.  Come with me, and I will show you your precious Amadour.  He shoved her towards the desk that had a large wooden bowl on it.  He pushed her head down and said, “Look into the water, and there is your Amadour.”

A face burst from the water.  “Run, Sal, run!” it screamed.

Two hands pulled the face back into the water.

Sal tried to twist away, but the entity was too strong for her.  Soon the hands reappeared and pulled her into the water, and as she sunk into the depths, she looked backwards to see that the entity no longer looked like Amadour.  Instead, she saw her own face staring back at her.

Chapter Five

Mia rose fully rested.  No night feedings, no being told she’s snoring, no Ted.  She stretched and took a moment to appreciate the view before hitting the shower.  Thoughts of Ted and Brian stopped her.  Should she call to make sure everything was alright?  “No, I have to show Ted that I trust him.”  She continued into the bathroom and turned on the water.

The steady stream of hot water eased any leftover stress she had from the previous evening.  She squinted at the labels of the complimentary trio of identical bath care products.  There was something that looked like an S.  Applying it to her hair, it lathered, so she had guessed correctly.

Mia had been in denial that she needed to see an eye doctor.  She could read the larger print on hardcover books, but the smaller print of labels and price tags was getting tougher.  She did the “old trombone” maneuver of moving the tag back and forth until she could read it.  “I’m too young for reading glasses,” she announced to the bubbles that rose up from the massive lather she had going.  She had let her hair grow while she was pregnant, enjoying the dark blonde lowlight that had moved in with the Nordic blonde hair.  She decided that, as a new mother, the only grooming she would have time for was a rubber-band-secured ponytail.

Ted called her new look Retro Barbie.  What would he call her when she had cheater eyewear on?  “I’m vain!” she said loudly.  “When did I become vain?”

After toweling off, she wrapped a fresh towel around her body and walked from the tiled room to stand in front of a full length mirror in the grooming area of the suite.  She turned on the lights, announcing, “It’s now or never.”  She let the towel drop and stared at her post-pregnancy body.  Aside from a few stretch marks, that Judy said she should consider battle scars and leave, Mia’s body didn’t look too different from before she was married.  Her butt seemed a bit saggy though, and her left boob hung lower than she remembered.

“What am I doing to myself?” she said, picking up the towel.  “I just need exercise and to avoid mirrors, and everything will be fine.”  Her bravado didn’t convince her though.  Mia sunk to the carpet and curled up into a ball.  Gone was the feisty woman who didn’t care what she wore and how she looked.  What was left was an insecure woman fearing that her husband would take one look at her and order the latest model.

“Ahem, young lady, are you alright?” a mature woman’s voice broke through the ether.  Standing at the entrance to the bath area was a uniformed maid.  She wore her straightened black hair contained in a low bun.

“I’m sorry, I’m just falling apart.  I don’t need any towels,” Mia said and laid her head back down on the carpet.

“No, this won’t do,” the ghost said and bent down and ran a cool hand over Mia’s shoulders.

Mia shivered and sat up quickly.  “Brrrrr, you ought to know that that isn’t comf…  Oh, you do know,” Mia said, catching the mischievous look on the woman’s face.

Mia reached into the closet and put on the white terry robe.

“Seems to me you’re having a pity party of one,” the ghost observed, moving by Mia to pick up her fallen towel and hang it up.

“I’m allowed. I just had a baby,” Mia sniffed.

“Of course you’re allowed. As long as it’s brief.  Us women don’t have time for such nonsense.  Not when there’s family at home waiting on us.  We have to do our work and then get our behinds home where we are appreciated and loved.”

“Whoa, that’s a mouthful.  How long have you been dead?” Mia asked, tugging on the snarls in her hair with the comb.

“Give that comb to me,” the ghost said.

Mia complied.  The woman concentrated on detangling a rat’s nest before she brought the comb through Mia’s hair.  “My daughter has hair like this.”

“Blonde?” Mia asked.

The black woman’s reflection looked back at her and frowned.  “No, curly.”