Mickelsson's Ghosts by John Gardner

Author:John Gardner
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
Published: 2010-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

They sat side by side on the couch in his livingroom, staring into the crackling, sputtering fire in the open-doored stove, Jessica with her shoes off, one foot tucked up under her, the back of her head resting lightly on Mickelsson’s arm. Her face was solemn, like that of a child listening to the stories of a grandfather. When he moved his hand on her shoulder or arm, she did not stop him. His groin ached dully, and every now and then a light shiver passed over him. Her left arm lay along his right upper leg. He concentrated on willing her to move her hand to his crotch. No luck.

Except for the fireplace and the nightlight in the kitchen, the whole house was dark. Outside, it was snowing a little. Jessica’s sherry glass sat untouched on the glass coffeetable, Mickelsson’ abandoned martini beside it. How she’d gotten him on the subject of the ghosts Mickelsson couldn’t remember.

“So what was it like?” she asked. “He just came into the bedroom and looked at you?” Though her tone was impatient, she was serious, interested.

“As I said, I’m not really sure he was there at all. Anyway, he didn’t look at me.” Mickelsson touched his forehead with two fingers. The scent of her hair and the nearness of her mouth impaired his capacity for thought. He said carefully, “He said something to someone—not to me, I think; someone he expected would be there—and then he looked embarrassed, as if he realized he’d made a mistake, and he went out.”

“You don’t even remember what he said?”

“Something like ‘Are you there?’ or, ?ou in there?’“

“So then what? He turned around and saw you?”

He smiled at her bullying. “I don’t think he ever saw me,” he said. “I’m not at all sure I saw him either, you know. The mind’s a queer business. People see things that aren’t there all the time—crazy people, people on drugs, people who are asleep and don’t know it, people who’ve been hypnotized. … When you think about it, it’s a wonder anyone’s certain of anything.”

“Maybe so, but really,” Jessica protested, “you can tell at some level when what you’re looking at isn’t really there.”

“I couldn’t—not this time—though common sense makes me assume it wasn’t. I don’t know.” He stared hard into the fire, reliving the memory for her benefit—the bearded old man shuffling in on him, staring with near-sighted, red-webbed eyes at the hatrack across the room. “I remember wondering at the time if maybe I was dreaming,” he said. He glanced at her. “Or crazy.”

“What did you decide?”

“I couldn’t tell. I think what I pretty much decided was—” He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to make out whether or not he believed what he was about to say, not that it mattered, then finished: “It wasn’t craziness. Something real, possibly not a ghost. It could be, I think, that I was tuning in on something from the past.”

“Spooky,” Jessica said, and sat forward in order to look into his face.

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