Or where the Church Hill tunnel collapsed in 1925.
As I pass Chimborazo Hospital, which tended to Confederate soldiers, I trip over gangrenous limbs sawn off to stop the spreading infection, the streets littered with amputated arms and legs, all of them reaching up for me. My ankle twists and I lose my balance. I hop on one foot as I pull off my sandal, then the other. I carry them in my hands for a while but there’s no point. I fling them away and run barefoot, trying not to see the hundreds of ghosts around me. I’ve never seen so many outstretched hands, all of them reaching out for me. Grabbing hold.
I want to take it back. Take it all back…I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.
Death is everywhere. They are everywhere.
There’s only one place left.
Time to go home again.
Home again, home again—
housewarming
Someone has painted a symbol in red across the front door. A circle with three rippling slashes cut across, like sperm burrowing into an ovum. I run my fingers over it and rust-colored crust flakes off. Spray paint doesn’t crumble off like that.
It feels wrong to knock. Why do I need Tobias’s permission to enter? It’s not his house any more than it is mine. It doesn’t belong to anyone. What’s stopping me from walking in?
Honey, I’m hooooome!
Just as I reach for the knob the door opens a crack.
A loamy aroma rushes over me, and I catch a hint of mildew and sweat in the air. It smells like a locker room that’s doing double duty as a mausoleum. Did it smell this bad before?
A young woman peers out from the crack. She has a porcelain complexion, like a dead Betty Boop. I wonder if she’s a ghost and reflexively step back. Am I at the wrong house?
“You wanna get haunted?”
The question throws me. Who is she? “Is, uh…Is Tobias here?”
Dead Betty Boop shouts over her shoulder, “Tobias! Some girl’s here to see you!”
Some girl? Doesn’t she know I used to live here?
Feet shuffle down the hall. “If she wants a session, tell her to—”
Tobias cuts himself off as soon as he spots me in the doorway. He looks thinner now, if that’s even possible. Pale, but his cheeks are flushed a faint pink. He’s not wearing his glasses, which is strange. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without them on before.
“Oh. You made it.” He smiles at me, a genuine grin. “Took you long enough.”
“What’s with the graffiti?” I nod at the door.
“Protection,” he mutters before turning back to the shadows. “Welcome home.”
Dead Betty Boop gives me another once-over before shrugging and trailing after Tobias. The door stays open for me.
It’s Tuesday. I left this house a little over forty-eight hours ago and yet this place feels totally transformed. It hits me the second I enter. A vague, sickly sweet scent drifts throughout the hall, like a bowl of apples left out to rot.
“Tobias,” I call after him, wincing at the neediness in my voice. “I need to make it stop. I’m—I’m seeing them everywhere. Outside my apartment. In the streets.”
“Told you to stay, didn’t I? But you and Amara wanted to go, so…Maybe it’s for the best. I think you needed to see the revenants for yourself.”
“See what?”
“That’s what Silas called them,” he says over his shoulder, barely turning to acknowledge me as he shuffles along. “They’re lost souls. Spirits with no house to haunt.”
“Well, they should fucking rent like the rest of us.”
“What do you think happens if you die outside? Your ghost wanders. Imagine all those homeless ghosts out there, roving the streets, just looking for something, anything, to call home.”
That’s all spirits want, apparently. To be invited in; a place to lay down their roots. Not much different than the living, I guess. Isn’t that what we’re all after? A home to call our own?
“Are you saying they won’t go away?”
Tobias turns to face me. “They’ve always been there, Erin—you just couldn’t see them. But now that you can, you want it to stop? What did you think would happen? You could just quit and—poof—they’d all fade away?”
I’m going to be haunted for the rest of my life.
“I tried to warn you.” Tobias turns back with a dismissive wave, continuing his lazy shuffle to the living room. “We opened a door. It’s not going to shut because you suddenly changed your mind. Sorry. Ghost just doesn’t work that way.”
“Then how does it work?”
“A vessel isn’t just for bringing ghosts in. It’s for keeping unwanted spirits out. No ghost is getting through that front door without an invitation.”
“So you’re just going to stay inside forever? Lock the doors and hope nobody slips in?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Please, Toby. I need my life back.”
“Your life.” Tobias must still be pissed at me for stealing his stash. That’s what this is about—he’s punishing me. This strung-out, passive-aggressive, laissez-faire attitude is his way of getting back at me. I should come clean and confess my sins so there’ll be no hard feelings. Tobias will forgive me and then he’ll make the ghosts go away. “I’m sorry I stole your Ghost.”
“Did you bring it back?”
“It’s gone.”
“You dropped all of it? Jesus, no wonder you drew so much attention! Dose on too much Ghost and you become a beacon for these spirits. They can smell that shit from a mile away.”
“Yeah, well, I had to find that one out the hard way.”
“You’re safe here, don’t worry. Plus I got the balance better now—this new batch is much smoother. Folks won’t puke ectoplasm every time they dose. That shit was getting pretty nasty to mop up.”
“You’re making more?”
“There’s always more Ghost where that came from.” He disappears into the living room.
“Toby, how are you—” I cut myself off as soon as I notice the fluctuating glow. I peer into the living room and am immediately taken aback by the sheer number of candles—tea lights, candle tins, mason jar candles. Jasmine, vanilla sea salt, lilac bloom, honey lavender. It’s a Bath and Body Works blowout sale in here.
Primitive signs that I don’t recognize now adorn the wall, matching the symbol on the front door. The windows are covered with plywood sheets, nailed over the frames to seal out any external light. I immediately forget what time of day it is. Time doesn’t exist the same way in a place like this.
“Take a load off.” Tobias sits on the floor next to Dead Betty Boop, who won’t stop staring at me.
I hesitate at the doorway. “There’s got to be a way…right? To stop seeing them?”
“Is that why you’re really here?”
“Yes.” I hope I sound like I mean it. “Turn the tap off, Tobias. I’m done.”
“Oh, man…That’s a heartbreaker. I thought you wanted to see Silas.”
“Is he here?” The sheer predictability of my emotional response to simply hearing his name makes me feel like I belong in some goddamn Bront? novel. I came here to stop this, not to see Silas.
“Right where you left him.”
“Wait. You’re telling me he…he’s…”
“He’s been waiting for you.”
All this time I was out there, lost in the city, calling out for him, while he’s been waiting for me to come back home. This is our house after all, isn’t it? “He’s here now?”
“Of course. He’s missed you.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“All the time. Come on. Sit down.” Tobias waves his hand lazily through the air. “You’re making me nervous, hovering like that. You look like a ghost.” He chuckles at his own joke.
“Where are your glasses?” I ask as I lower myself onto the floor, joining them.
“I don’t need them to see anymore.”
Dead Betty Boop is all smiles now. I can see how young she is in the candlelight. She could be in college—Christ, high school, even. “Hi. I’m Melissa.”
“This is Erin,” Tobias makes my introduction for me. “She’s a dear old friend.”
“What’s she doing here?” I ask Tobias, unnerved that there’s a stranger inside—
our home
—the house.
“Just making new friends.”