A Ghost of Fire

  Part of it was that I didn’t fit the successful mold created by everyone else in the family. The rest of them were CEOs, wealthy entrepreneurs and trophy wives. I had no intentions of aspiring to any of those paths, especially the trophy wife thing. I had neither the brainlessness nor the equipment. And as desperate as my situation was I didn’t have money for that kind of surgery. Plus, I think I’d make kind of an ugly woman. Regardless, I was the black sheep of the family. I was the failed project.

  “You know, thanks for the offer, mom, but I can’t this weekend. I’m doing something with some friends.” This was a pure lie. There was nothing planned for the weekend. I didn’t even have any real friends in the city. I’d tried to develop some four months before after having moved there, but people seemed to get very busy when they found out how I lost my last job. The same problem applied to meeting girls.

  It was hard enough to answer the “What do you do” question with “unemployment.” Try to explain the reason you’re unemployed is due to an accusation of sexually inappropriate behavior toward minors, and for some reason you will find that the average single woman on a barstool isn’t interested in having you meet her parents or pick out curtains together.

  “Oh, that’s alright sweetie. I understand. I hope you have a good time with your friends. Tell me if you meet somebody fun, won’t you?” Ah, yes, “Somebody fun.” That was of course mom-code for “Somebody who can provide me with grandbabies one day, you uterus-less wretch.”

  “Yes, of course I will Mom.” Then, as an after thought, in order to appease guilt gods I added, “Oh and I see my message light is blinking. You must have tried to reach me earlier when I wasn’t here. Sorry if I missed you.”

  “I didn’t call you earlier honey. I was busy all day. Some of us work for a living you know.” There’s nothing like a closing jab to keep family relations civil. Yes, of course, I thought but did not say. Sorry mom. How could I forget? Maybe unemployment is starting to make me stupid as well as useless. A thousand apologies.

  “Oh, sorry. Okay well I’ll talk to you later. Got to go.” As I pressed the off button I could hear my mother try to get in one last comment. I smiled and placed the phone back into its cradle. Then I looked at it for a moment. The red message light blinked slowly, advertising its single unheard message. If it wasn’t my mother, who was it? I pushed the button. The voice which issued from the grainy speakers was unmistakable, crisp and authoritative.

  “Mr. Nicholas, this is Jan Fenstra at Spectra Data Processing. I was calling about two items.” I was surprised to hear back so quickly. I figured she must have called shortly after I’d left. I scrambled to find paper and a pen in case I needed to write anything important. The recording continued.

  “The first is to notify you that we are accepting you for the custodial position. I’d like to arrange to meet with you on Wednesday at one o’clock so we may go over your pay rate and a few other procedural matters. We’ll be taking your photograph for an ID. This will allow you into certain areas of the building, notably the custodial closets which are otherwise locked electronically. Also if you want to use the elevator you will need the badge.” There was a momentary pause and a click. It sounded maybe like she had set something down on her desk on the other end of the line.

  “The second item is to see if everything is alright. I heard the tires of that car screech earlier and then someone in the cubicle area shouted something about a fight outside. I looked out my window to see what was going on, knowing you had just left. I couldn’t see anything for a few minutes then I saw you walking toward your car. I also saw the other car, the black one speed by you honking and…gesturing.” She paused for a heartbeat then added, “I do hope everything is alright.

  “If you have any questions or conflicts on Wednesday feel free to call me Monday and we’ll work it out. Otherwise I look forward to meeting you in the middle of the week. Have a good evening, Mr. Nicholas.” The recording concluded with the customary beep. I finished scrawling my notes and put the pen down.

  I felt the call was more about checking up on me than it was about relaying the information about getting the job. I remembered thinking that if anyone was on this woman’s team they could trust she would go to bat for them without fail. It was an odd feeling, and a wonderfully strange contrast to my mother’s call.

  I realized at that moment I’d found the clarifying anchor I needed earlier. I no longer felt the distracted and disconnected sense which threatened to unravel the day, dragging it down into uncertainty in the night. I was refreshed and ready to relax. I went back into the living space of the small apartment, got the cold food and took it back to the kitchenette to microwave it. I brought it back to the futon and was about to switch the movie back on and start over when I heard it for the first time.

  The giggle of a small child came from somewhere in the apartment. I looked over and noticed the bathroom door was closed but a yellow bar of light streamed out from beneath it. The light was on in there and I knew that I had not turned it on. It had been off when I had gotten home and I hadn’t gone in there. The small, girlish laughter drifted out again and the light in the bathroom turned off.

  I rocketed up from my seat spilling freshly heated rice and my glass of flat root beer onto the floor. I was frozen in place, not knowing what to do. Part of me screamed to run for my life and never come back. Another part of me, a smaller part, wanted me to pretend it hadn’t happened and that I was only imagining things and that nothing had really happened. A third faction within my mind, the one which ultimately won out, decided the best option was to stay and figure it out.

  “Hello?” I called and heard the shaking in my own voice. There was no response. I forced myself to tear my feet away from the places where they had glued themselves and move toward the bathroom door. It was only about a yard and a half away but each step felt unstable as if the floor would give way beneath me and I might fall forever.

  I reached my hand out and wrapped it around the door knob. My heart beat well beyond the normal rate and threatened to explode out of my chest. As I was about to turn the knob and burst into the small bathroom I was stopped by the tiniest whiff of something which did not belong. The smell of smoke and ash filled my nose and then was gone again just as quick.

  The memory of the interview, of twice smelling something burning in a short span of time, cascaded back upon me. It was what I couldn’t recall just minutes before. Any further thinking along that line came to an abrupt halt as the urge to act grew too strong to contain any longer.

  As fast as I could I turned the knob, pushed on the door and rushed into the bathroom, not that there was much space to rush into. There was enough space for the toilet, the shower and one human being. I was the only one in there. The shower curtain was open and the stall was empty.

  The hair on the back of my neck was raised and yet it seemed unusually warm in the small room, almost as if the shower had been going at full heat for a few minutes, but there was no steam on the mirror and I certainly would have heard it. My eyes scanned around, darting back and forth but there wasn’t much to see. I even checked between the back of the door and the wall. Nothing.

  I spun around and looked back into the main area of the apartment in case I might catch a glimpse of something which did not belong, but it was also deserted. Nothing was out of place and no one was there. I felt this as much as saw it. I expected to have the sense that someone was watching me, that feeling you get in old libraries where the eyes of long dead benefactors followed you from their paintings on the wall. But that sense was not there.

  I moved cautiously back into the main area, anticipating someone or something jumping out at me for some unutterable purpose. Nothing did. The apartment was empty and completely silent except for me and the sound of my rapid breathing. Then a sensation came over me, completely unexpected and illogical. I felt completely safe and at ease. I knew I should not have but I could not reconcile what my mind told me and what my heart seemed to
know. I also began to feel very tired.

  I cleaned up the spill I had made and put the rest of the food away in the refrigerator. The great pressure and fear of only five minutes earlier now felt like a distant memory. I transformed the futon into my bed and lay down. Pulling the blankets over myself, I quickly fell into a deep sleep untroubled by dreams of smells and laughter.