Junie’s Ghost

Kathleen Wallace

You want to hear my ghost story? About how I was stalked by a ghost?

Everybody, from time to time, sees a flash of something from the corner of their eye but when they turn to look nothing’s there. Right? Or you hear a noise and there’s no one in the house but you. Oh, that’s just the house settling, you say. Yeah, that’s what I tell myself, too. Or told myself.

It started the morning it snowed. Do you remember that? None of the forecasters were calling for snow, but when I woke up, the air in the house was cold and shivery-feeling, trying to creep in around the edges of the windows all sneaky like. I yawned and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around me as I struggled with the coffee maker. I’ve been thinking about getting one of those coffee makers that you can set up the night before, so your fuel is ready when you wake up, but I’m just too plain cheap to throw away the one I’ve got until it breaks, so every morning I just think, “I really need to get one of those …” And then never do.

I have a hard time buying things for myself – there’s always something else that needs getting. Kids need new shoes; Tom needs a pair of jeans. The list is endless and somehow my wants never make it to the top.

Tom fusses at me sometimes, saying I look like a ragbag in my old clothes – why can’t I dress smart like Ed’s wife? I just keep my mouth closed and do something else, so I don’t fuss back. That never gets us anywhere but in separate rooms for the night and me crying.

While I waited for the coffee to be made, I grabbed up all the glasses and trash that somehow sprout on the coffee table overnight and happened to glance out the window. Everything looked weird, so I put all the mess back down and opened the front door, getting a face full of ice crystals. I was glad I had the blanket, even though I trip a lot with it on, because it was frigid out there, everything was wrapped in a soft looking layer of snow, but I knew from the ice melting on my face that it wasn’t going to be soft at all.

I was irritated. In the morning, I like to have two cups of coffee and read my magazines before getting ready for work. It’s the only time in my whole day when I can just relax and be Junie, without worrying about saying or doing something dumb.

I knew, staring out at the icy yard, that I wasn’t going to have time for a second cup and there’d be no sitting and reading of what Britney had been up to now. Instead, I’d have to wrestle my car out from under its ice wrapper and make sure it had plenty of time to warm up, so as not to break the engine. Tom always tells me that, you know, let the car warm up or something awful’s going to happen. I’m not sure what that something is, but it sounds ominous, the way he says it. But I usually cheat a little, you know? Like, I only let it warm up for maybe half a song on the radio. But I’m afraid to cheat if it’s snowed – like maybe God will be so pissed at me for not following the rules, he’ll make the engine fall smack out on the ground while I’m driving the un-warmed up car. I’m so stupid about cars and most other things, it’d happen to me for sure.

So I grumbled and skipped my shower, just hit the high spots and got dressed. I felt pretty proud of myself for to start the car before I’d even had my coffee – I figured I’d drink the coffee while the car got to the right level of warmness. I’d brush my teeth after coffee and then decide if I felt like putting makeup on. It’s such a hassle, smoothing foundation on, blushing up my cheeks and then taking the careful time to put on mascara. And you have to take your time, right? Or you risk looking common. For me, that’s one of the worst things I can be thought of. I think it’s because my gran always fussed about women who looked common–cheap. Cheap, common women weren’t worth knowing, she always said.

I’m bouncing around a lot, aren’t I, in telling this story? Probably because it still scares the crap out of me, so I don’t want to get to the meat of it all. But, like Gran also used to say, nothing gets done with you sitting at looking at it, so let me get to it.

I went out in the dark morning, all bundled up and wishing I could remember where I’d put the ice scraper. I’d grabbed a spatula from the kitchen to use on the windows instead, thinking I’d probably find the ice scraper the next time I went to cook eggs and couldn’t find my spatula. I clumped over to the car slipping and sliding everywhere, knowing Tom was going to be pissed when he woke up and had to get the sidewalks straight before the kids went to school. Then I smacked myself on the forehead. Most likely, there probably wouldn’t be school! I forgot I had the spatula in my hand and almost poked out my eye, but thank goodness that didn’t happen. I don’t think my boss would understand why I was in the emergency room waiting for some doctor to shove my eyeball back in my head instead of being at work taking orders for breakfast sandwiches. He’s always saying how lucky I am to have a job there anyway, with the way I mess up all the time.

Yeah, I know, I’m getting there.

I finally made it to the car without busting my tailbone and started in on the driver’s window. I don’t know why I didn’t start the car first, except that I hate sitting in a car with windows I can’t see out of, it makes me feel trapped – like a bug in a jar. I took my spatula and swiped the ice of the window, pretty happy it came off without too much fuss when I saw somebody sitting inside the car, in the driver’s seat, just staring straight ahead. It was a woman, with long dark hair, just sitting and staring, not moving a muscle. Her eyes were wide open too. Now, you might think I stood there for a long time, noticing all this, but it was just a split second, let me tell you. It really freaked me out, I screamed and dropped the spatula and ran right back into the house, yelling for Tom to get up and that there was some woman in our car.

I’ll give him credit, even though he’d only been in bed a few hours (he works the night shift down at the plant), he jumped out of bed and ran outside, barefoot and with only his sweats on. My personal feeling is that he was more pissed about somebody being in our vehicle that worried about me, I don’t think Tom worries about me too much at all, unless he can’t find his clean socks or his dinner’s not ready when he is.

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