Deborah Makes Peace

Over the next few weeks, Deborah did her best to oblige. She gritted smiles, mentally wrestled her hands into waves, and said “Good Morning,” and “Have a nice day” in the tone reserved for airline customer service representatives. When taking a work call from home—she worked all hours as the event approached—she’d even roll her eyes in the ghost’s direction, as if he were an officemate who would share her frustration that the staging company hadn’t budgeted for sand.

“It’s a beach concert,” she said, as the fist-waving homunculus reappeared. “It’s on a beach.”

The ghost continued to scowl, but there seemed to be less moaning and rattling, and she no longer saw swastikas everywhere.

On the night before the concert, Vicki called to check in. “You holding up?”

“Barely,” Deborah admitted. She’d only been getting a few hours of sleep. The headliner had demanded a new soundcheck time and the forecast called for thunderstorms. Five people had yelled at her that day, although that was better than the seven who’d yelled the day before. “I thought I’d be part of something important. Now I’m worried it’ll be a disaster.”

“How’s Oscar?”

“I’ve been so busy; I haven’t given him much attention.”

“You’re leaving soon. Make sure he gets to know you. Remember what you thought about me when we first met.”

Deborah hung up, wishing she could jump ahead twenty-four hours. Had it been hubris to think she could manage a job this big? Memories of other failures rushed in to taunt her: singing Adele at a talent show, a humiliating try-out for the tennis team, the film internship that lasted three days after she spilled coffee on an executive and mis-collated a batch of scripts. She fought the temptation to check the weather app in case the forecast had changed in the last ten minutes and used Vicki’s question as a diversion.

They’d met at the party of a mutual friend who’d been housesitting in Malibu. When Deborah walked in, a tall blonde in a summer dress hugged her as if they were best friends. “I’m new in town too!”  Vicki had seemed like every popular girl who’d tortured Deborah in middle school and ignored her in high school. But when the host asked her to give Vicki a ride home and they got a flat tire, Vicki knew how to change it. Turned out she also knew how to live on food stamps and survive abusive relationships.

Deborah sat up, faced Oscar, and started to talk. At first, she spoke to him as if they were neighbors with nothing in common but a property line. Then she crossed into the territory of sleepover parties and worked up to topics reserved for long road trips with old friends. She told him she was the only kid in her class to invite a German exchange student to her birthday party. How she volunteered at a nursing home to help plan entertainment (polka was still quite popular). How her grandmother was renowned for her Spätzle recipe. She shared her missteps and successes. Her struggles and hopes. As Deborah talked, she pulled the quilt around her shoulders, offering swatches from her life that when stitched together created a whole person.

The ghost hovered. She didn’t know if he was listening but in telling her stories she had talked herself off the ledge of panic. So what if the concert hit some glitches? The tickets were sold. The organization would be funded. The refugees assisted. On her way to bed she said, “Good night,” and realized she’d said it sincerely.

The next morning, the ghost blocked the front door as she tried to leave for her four a.m. call time. She tapped her foot.

“Aren’t you guys big on punctuality? You’re going to make me late.”

He began to raise his arm. But instead of swinging forward, he waved it to the side as if to say, “After you.” The scowl evened. Not quite a smile. But still.

Deborah stepped into the space shared by his form. She expected to feel a chill, to have the hair raise on her arms. But as she passed through to the door, she felt a warm patch, like a section of sidewalk heated by the sun while the rest remained in shadow.

“Maybe you will become a toothbrush after all,” Deborah said and continued on her way.