Ghost

0401

I woke up, disoriented by the sound of my alarm. I stirred and shot up with my eyes still closed, blindly reaching for the off switch. I couldn't recall the last morning I'd gave it the chance to go off. I usually was able to disarm it in time. Actually, I couldn't remember the last time I'd woken up in my bed at all.

 I was so distracted in my pondering of how I had managed to fall asleep, I had completely showered and dressed before noticing a little brown leather book sitting atop my phonograph. I'd forgotten to turn that on, too. I guess I'd have to worry about the cursing of my grandchildren another day.

 I sat on the corner of my bed with the book in hand, skimming my fingers over the indents of the two tiny letters on the front. J.C.

 I opened to the first page. The insides looked old and weathered and dusty. I could barely make out the written note in the top corner of the cover page, abstractly cursive and smudged with mild water damage. Josephine Cuevas, 1928. 

 Wow, I thought, doing the math in my head. Fifty-seven years old.

 I knew right then who it belonged to. Unless there was some other ghost girl roaming the house in an overly modest white frock. I wasn't surprised that she put it here for me to find. Like loners, ghost didn't get to talk much either. It was kind of hard when you were invisible to the majority of the population.

 I was about to turn to the first entry when I heard a disturbance from downstairs. Arguing. I tucked the book under my pillow and headed out into the hallway where I could make out the mumbled shouting.

 "-how am I supposed to make new friends if you won't even let me leave my room?" Audrey. She was complaining again about her house imprisonment.

 "Maybe you should have considered the consequences of your little escapade before you acted upon them, Audrey." Mom. Her voice was level and even tempered. I could picture her casually reading through her morning newspaper, as if she didn't have a screaming teenager standing before her.

 I peeked around the corner of the stairs and watched as my mother quietly chewed on her sausage biscuits, swallowing and taking a small sip of water. "If you are going to act like a delinquent, then you are going to be treated like one."

 Audrey was standing in front of the dining table, her stance still defensive but slipping into a helpless hunch. She stood there until our mother flashed a look that signaled the conversation was over. Audrey turned around, her face crumpling into tears as she darted for the stairs. I didn't have a chance to hide, and the second her eyes fell on me she turned livid. She bolted at me and thrusted me against the wall, giving the back of my head a good smack. "Stay out of my business," she snarled under her breath, just low enough for our mother not to hear.

 She gave another jolt into my chest before running up the rest of the stairs and slamming her door. I heard our mom let out a sigh as I made an attempt to catch my breath. I was still standing in the same spot when Audrey came down with a bag on her shoulder, ready to book it. She flew past me without a word, making sure to slam the front door as well. I took a moment to wipe the tears out of my eyes before going up to my room and following suite, hoping my face wasn't too noticeably blotchy when I came back down. 

 "Natalie," my mother called, just as my hand was reaching out for the knob. I turned to her, preparing myself to be asked what was wrong. If I was alright. Maybe she would even ask what happened, and reassure me that Audrey was just a stupid hormonal teenager. Then I realized how unlikely that was.

 "You need to eat your breakfast before you leave."

 "Not hungry," I muttered and stepped out before she had the chance to reprimand me.