Talk To Me

Chapter nine

Present

Oliver felt proud. Ann was the first spirit he had escorted to the light alone. Every other time, Mary had helped him. And after the unfortunate event at his university, four and a half years ago, he thought he wouldn't be able to use his gift. But now Oliver felt partial relief. He seemed slightly disappointed that Ann had left without even a word. Before moving on, other spirits would describe to Oliver and Mary what, or rather, who stood waiting in the light for them.

The thoughts about the landlord's mother swirled in Oliver's head as he walked down the street toward the cemetery. Looking up at the grayish sky and the apexes of the tall trees, he thought about his sister, too. The concept of the light always felt clear to him, but perhaps if the light comes immediately after death, it's somehow different. He shook his curls lightly, chasing away ideas that his sister might've left without saying goodbye.

Oliver once more thought about Ann. She seemed to love just her son, so who stayed waiting for her in the light? Has Trevor been there? And if he was, how did that go? Oliver shook his head slightly, trying to accept that he will never know the answers to the questions he kept asking himself.

He hastened his steps when the Pine Hill graveyard reached his sight. Skipping unnecessary exploration of gravestones in the area, he took shortcuts, soon reaching a fully recognized plot. A slight shiver went through his body when he scanned the engraved names on the big gray stone. He stopped in front of the plot, keeping his hands in the black jeans pockets.

He noticed that there stood white lilies in the vase; near the gravestone. They seemed withered and blossoms held brown spots on them, leaves looked shrunken.

"I didn't bring you anything," Oliver whispered. He took out one of his hands, holding the gold medallion in his fist.

Oliver played with the locket, rubbing the back of the item with his thumb. A long gold chain swayed beneath his hand, between his fingers. His sight sifted as he felt the tickling in his belly.

He lifted his head, glancing at a woman a few rows in front of him. He squinted his eyes lightly, recognizing the woman and her ghostly companion. Ms. Jackson, a former neighbor, lived across the street from Mary's old house. A woman's husband died a year earlier than Mary, and Oliver recalled his funeral. He felt surprised that Mr. Jacson wasn't attending his own funeral since he seemingly never went to the light.

"I suspect you will be here." A sudden sound startled Oliver.

"Well, I told you I'm going to be here." Oliver's chest moved slower; he glanced to his right side. "I can see you are still bringing flowers."

The man moved, going towards the tomb. "Every few days, brother."

Mark took out old flowers from the vase, filling the bowl with fresh bottled water. A silent sniffle caught Oliver's attention from his friend's actions. Ms. Jackson traveled past the men. Oliver bent his head in greeting a woman, she moved her lips into a forceful smile; wiping her tears with a crumpled tissue. Lady passed the young men and roamed the pathway. Mark placed fresh lilies in the vase, holding the old bouquet in his left hand. He moved back, standing beside Oliver.

Mark looked at his friend. "Did you talk to David?"

"Yes." Oliver nodded. "She left to the light."

"You did it," Mark said with a smile. "And Leah?"

"Not yet. That's why I'm here." Oliver glanced at his friend. "You have to move on, Mark."

Mark scoffed. "Like you did?"

"It's different for me, she is my sister." He furrowed his eyebrows.

"You know I loved the girl," Mark's voice crumpled. "I told her, you know."