Slow Dance in Purgatory

“What do you mean you’re ‘sorta’ dead?” The questions started piling up behind one another in her head, jostling for a turn, but this one was first in line. “Nobody can see me or hear me, present company excluded.” He quirked that eyebrow at her. “So that makes me think I am…. somewhat….dead.”

“I have seen ghosts of people who are….. actually…dead,” Maggie agreed, “so seeing you would still be possible for me if you were, indeed, deceased.” Maggie thought this might be the most surreal conversation she had ever had.

“Ahh.” Johnny nodded his head seriously. “That makes sense, then.”

“It does?” Maggie thought to herself, bewildered. Aloud she said, “But I didn’t just see you and hear you, I touched you……didn’t I?”

Johnny closed the distance between them and reached out his hand tentatively. Maggie stiffened imperceptibly, and Johnny’s hand ceased moving. What was she so afraid of? She knew touching him wouldn’t hurt her. Lifting her own hand, Maggie laid it against his. They gasped in unison, and Johnny’s eyes held hers intently.

“That’s the sorta part.”

Maggie held her breath, feeling his hand pressing into hers. It was warm and firm, and his fingers dwarfed hers by two inches. It was flesh and bone just as she remembered, and there was a slight vibration that hummed against her skin as he pressed his palm to hers.

Johnny’s eyes shifted to the corridor behind her. “There’s someone else in the school.”

Maggie swiveled her head around, dropping her hand.

“I shouldn’t be here. I could get in trouble.” When she turned back around, Johnny again stood in the middle of the rotunda, his hands back in his front pockets. Maggie shook her head dizzily. How was that possible? She had simply turned her head for a second.

“So why are you here?” Johnny questioned softly.

“What?” Maggie was still trying to figure out how he had moved so quickly.

“If you could get in trouble, why are you here?” he repeated patiently.

“I wanted to thank you for saving me,” Maggie blurted out. “I would have been seriously hurt or killed.”

“We wouldn’t want that….would we? There’s already one ghost too many around here.”

Maggie gaped at him. Was he joking? “That’s not very funny.”

“No….it’s not, is it?” Johnny looked a little flummoxed, and he ran his hands through his hair, barely disturbing the golden strands. “My conversation skills are a little rusty, I’m afraid.”

Several voices echoed down the long hall, growing closer to the entrance where Maggie and her strange companion stood. Maggie was caught between needing to run and desperately wanting to stay. Johnny nodded towards the door.

“Go out the front. The door locks from the outside. Nobody will ever know you were here.”

Maggie ran for the entrance but turned to make sure he hadn’t disappeared. He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Johnny?”

“Yes, Margaret?”

“You can call me Maggie, most everyone else does.”

“Okay...Maggie.”

“Maybe I can help you with the rust issue,” Maggie suggested hopefully.

Johnny didn't respond, but he smiled a little.

“You won’t hide from me next time, will you?”

Johnny shook his head.

“So I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“What day is today?

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t keep track. It’s easier that way.”

Maggie stared at him wordlessly, shaken by his response. He returned her gaze without further explanation.

“Then I will just see you soon,” she acquiesced softly.

“I would like that very much, Maggie.”





7


“ALL SHOOK UP”

Elvis Presley - 1957





On Sunday, Maggie squirmed through church and fussed and fidgeted through dinner. She rattled and cracked her way through the after supper dishes, breaking one saucer and a teacup, and fiddled incessantly with everything in sight until finally Aunt Irene ordered her from the house with instructions to “go work off some of that nervous energy!”

“Gus?” Maggie asked the old man as he rocked beside Aunt Irene on the front porch swing. “Do you think I could go to the school and dance for a while – would that be okay?”

Gus thought for a moment and then gave a quick puff on his fragrant pipe. “I suppose it wouldn’t do no harm. But take Shadrach with you."

Maggie stopped in her tracks. Taking Shad wouldn't work. Gnawing her lip, Maggie turned, wondering how she was going to get out of the house without hurting his feelings.

"I was going to rehearse my dance routines, and Shad will be bored, won't you Shad?" Maggie asked hopefully.

"I can shoot a little hoop, get my Michael Jordan on." Shad shot an imaginary ball and then dribbled it through his legs. His feet got tangled with the imaginary ball, and he went down hard on his butt. His Michael Jordan definitely needed work. Maggie groaned.

"Fine," Maggie grumped, "but you stay in the gym. I can't dance with you wanting to show me a move every ten seconds, okay?" Maybe Johnny would still show up.

“Take the car, dear!” It’s getting dark, and I don’t want you riding that bike home at night,” Irene insisted graciously.