Antique Lives

two

I had seen her, I was sure of it. She was eating iced cream with her boyfriend, maybe. But she hadn't heard me, and she hadn't seen me when I'd waved. So I'd lost all hope that something new had been introduced to my life, since nothing had for the last century. She could see me though, and hear me just fine before.

I thought she was a ghost at first, but she was only a human. Maybe it had something to do with the night, or the moon, or the lake, but she saw me. Oh well, she was done with the likes of me – I had seen that I'd scared her in her eyes.

It was around 11:00 now, which meant I had one hour until I had to be at my gravestone. One hour of walking through people. I loved this part of the day, though. People were never the same. They ate new things and bought new things, and watching them was the extent of my life's excitement.

I sat down on a cool steel bench outside The Slab, a quite popular bakery on the corner of Rye Street. A group of girls laughed in the booth, a couple shared a milkshake and fresh bagel at a table, and the baker rolled dough behind the counter. I breathed in that wonderful smell. The bakery really didn't need advertising, since anyone walking down Rye Street would smell it and couldn't help but go in.

I supposed it was time to make my way to the beach by the park. I'd always wondered what would happen if I didn't. Would I disappear from the world for good? Would I be stuck in only this world? I didn't know, and I certainly wasn't about to risk finding out.

The lake was dead and calm as always. There was no one around, as there was never usually anyone around the water this late. It was a small walk down the shore to where my gravestone sat. Black marble with letters engraved in silver. 'Sebastian Hayes, 1864 – 1882'.

Since I hadn't thought to wear a watch the day I died, I was forever stuck not knowing the exact time. I placed my hand on the gravestone and waited, once again, for midnight to come.

August first, 1882. The air was hot and sticky, and made my old, worn-out clothes stick to my skin. It was midnight, and the full moon shone over the city, reflected in the lake.

Two ladies sat on the park bench near the lake, dressed in lace dresses and floral hats. I wished them a good day, as I did every day. I walked back up to Rye Street, which was alive with music and noise from the Friday night partyers. I waited for a horse and buggy to pass. Sometimes I crossed before it, and sometimes long after it, but it was generally the same idea every day. The driver tipped his hat at me.

Jasper, my best friend in that time, would be waiting for me in the bakery, which had been called 'The Stone Oven'. "Sebastian, my friend," he swung out the door as I approached the bakery. I waved at him and the two ladies following behind him, who giggled as I waved.

He would soon ask me to accompany them to O'Reilly's, the bar on Finn Street. Some days I went, and some days I even avoided Jasper altogether. It was choices like these that made my life just a little more exciting.

"How would you like to accompany me and these fine ladies to O'Reilly's?" Jasper winked. I didn't reckon it was a good idea, since Jasper seemed quite drunk already. Besides, I already knew how it all played out.

"Sounds swell," I said. I hadn't gone with him for about a week, so I decided I might as well.

----

As always, O'Reilly's was completely full. Everyone was loud and crazy, and definitely happy (though I would say that was with help of the beer).

"Margaret is waving at you," Jasper nudged me. Margaret, a girl from down by my farm, had fancied me for as long as I could recall. Every night, I had to tell her I wasn't interested and see her disappointment. But of course, the next night it would all restart and she would have forgotten.