Page 24

Chapter 24

Old Ghosts

The sharp double-knock on their doorframe had Logan looking up from his biology textbook in alarm. Sprawled out on his stomach across Oz's bed to study, Logan had the sudden fear that they'd been too loud just a few moments ago. That finally, their luck had run out, and it was one of the fraternity brothers coming to complain about all the moaning and shouting.

But no — it was only an old man in a green sweater vest and yellow bowtie combo, beaming from the doorway with a cheerfully expectant expression on his face. Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes, gamely pasting on a politely confused smile as he gave a halfhearted little wave.

"Can we help you?" Oz asked respectfully enough as he appeared just behind the guy, hair still wet from the shower and making his shirt collar damp.

"Oh, I…uh," the man stammered, clearly not expecting Oz but holding his hand out to shake, anyway. "Walter McLane, class of '74."

Dutifully, Logan got up to shake his hand, too. Walter's skin was paper-thin, and his fingers were bony. Especially his pinky, as Logan added the secret finger-hook like you were supposed to do greeting Mu Tau Rho brothers for the first time, or after a long absence.

"You wanna sit?" Logan asked, gesturing at the desk chair

The man might be an interrupting old busybody, but something about Walter reminded Logan of his grandfather. He'd feel guilty all week if he made the guy stand.

As for himself, Logan wandered over to lean up against the bed frame, crossing his arms over his chest as Walter waved away the offer.

"Thank you," Walter said as he stepped out of the way to let Oz slip by, sighing as he settled carefully into the desk chair. "I promise, I won't take up too much of you boys' time. Was only taking a walk down memory lane. Came for the auction tomorrow, and thought I'd come see the old place while I was in town. I'd forgotten how many stairs this house had!"

"Was this your room?" Logan asked doubtfully. It hadn't been for any of the alumni brothers who'd ever 'just dropped by' to shake Logan's hand, not even once.

"Oh, me? No," Walter chuckled as Logan fought to keep from rolling his eyes, his attention wandering as the old guy went on. "I was downstairs in the big room. Party Central, we used to call it. No, this was my best friend Danny's room, right until we were drafted. He played on the football team too, there for a while. Used to let me come and study up here where it was quiet."

"Drafted?" Oz asked, turning from where he'd been putting his Dopp kit away. There was enough curiosity in his expression that Logan found himself tuning in again.

"That we were. I was pre-med then, so I served as a nurse; while Danny wielded the meanest ladle you've ever seen this side of the Mekong waiting for his CO status to be approved."

"Stands for Contentious Objector," Walter added with a grim little smile at Oz's curious look. "Danny was a pacifist; organized student rallies over on the campus, saying we shouldn't be over there at all. Damn fool tried to get out of it, too. Day our number was called, he had an 'accidental misfire' with his pappy's service weapon, aiming for his toe. Changed his mind at the last second and only clipped part of the nail. You'd've thought he'd lost the whole foot the way he went around demanding every half-pretty thing buy him a drink after. To 'console him in his time of need'." Walter snorted.

"I think I heard about that," Logan hazarded.

Walter barked a laugh. "Drafted Danny Ninetoes?" he asked, laughing again as Logan and Oz nodded warily.

"I don't know how that story got started," Walter scoffed. "Or worse, why it won't die! I half suspect the whole 'haunting' bit is something he ginned up himself as a prank. It's the kind of thing he would do."

"Wait — " Oz tilted his head. "How could your friend have come back to start the story of him being a ghost, if he died in the war?"

"Danny didn't die in no war!" Walter chuckled. "We both came back and finished our degrees on the government's dime, thanks to the GI Bill. He couldn't play football anymore on account of a bullet he took over there, and I'd had my fill of the operating room by then. So he switched to business, and me to accounting. Opened up a bakery downtown together, and expanded to three locations before we decided it was time to sell it on. Made a few investments, traveled around a bit with some friends for a while before he got too sick. But Danny died in his own bed four years ago this November, peaceful and happy."

Walter paused.

"Though I wouldn't put it past him to haunt you boys now."

Logan couldn't help but notice that the whole time, Walter had been rubbing at the gold ring on his left hand; twirling the wedding band as he talked.

"What did he have?" Oz whispered.

Walter's eyes flicked to the window for a brief moment, before meeting each of their gazes in turn. "A joyful life of his own making," was all he answered.

There was a weight there, a hanging shadow of something too large to be asked. Neither Oz nor Logan tried to pry at it any further, sensing it wasn't theirs to know.

"Anyway," Walter said heavily after the too-long moment passed. "I was cleaning out some old things, and I found these."

Logan's heart skipped a beat as the man awkwardly produced a luridly fluorescent yellow box that practically glowed in his hands.

Are those…?

"Those are the new Series Elevens x Shinji Ito," Logan whispered, taking the box Walter held out and opening it. "In red ." He looked up. "These only dropped last week. Sold out in like, five minutes, too."

"Really?" Walter winked. "I wouldn't know anything about all that. I'm sure I found these cleaning out my garage last month. When I mentioned to some of my pledge brothers I'd be in town the weekend of the auction, they told me you were always in need of shoes, even old ones like these. I was hoping you could help me find them a good home?"

"Yeah," Logan said, trying not to be too obvious about it as he held the box against his chest. "Of… of course. Um. Thank you."

"Can't have Minotaur House's star player going to games barefoot, now can we?" Walter asked with a wink.

It was such a well-trod line by this point. One repeated by every alumnus who'd stood right here, handing Logan a crisp new shoebox and claiming they'd found it buried in a closet, an attic, or an old storage shed. But there was something about Walter's expression, or his story, or maybe just Walter himself… Logan didn't mind it, not this time.

Still didn't mean he'd be telling Walter that, even if they'd been game-ready cleats, kicks this quality would NEVER see the field.

And from the cheerful glint in the old man's eye, Logan got the impression he didn't need to, either.

"My parents are going to be at the auction tomorrow." Oz threw an apologetic look Logan's way.

He'd already told Oz that Logan's dad had said he couldn't make it, on account of having a game to coach the previous day. It was fine. Logan was used to it.

"If you find a spare moment, I think my Dad would really like to meet you," Oz continued. "I'm actually a legacy; he's a house alum, too."

"Oh, you boys are both good sports," Walter replied, shooing away the offer with a flap of his hand. "But you don't have to bend over backwards on my account. You probably get us old geezers dropping in on you all the time."

Oz looked over at Logan pleadingly.

"We do," Logan admitted. "It's always good to meet a brother, and sometimes they swing by with hand-me-downs — " Logan shook the shoebox carefully but meaningfully — "That 'need a new home'. I, uh… I don't want to sound ungrateful, but for what it's worth: neither of us go asking any of them to come back and share more stories. Oz's dad is a nice guy. It'd mean a lot, uh, sir. If you have the time before you leave, I mean."

"I'm just in for the weekend, boys, and my dance card's pretty full. But I'll tell you what — there used to be this little hole-in-the-wall diner on 64th Street. Do either of you know if it's still there?"

Logan shook his head, but —

"Ruby's?" Oz guessed. "Over by Saint's Park, right?"

"That's the one!" Walter smiled. It seemed to be something he did a lot, drawing an answering smile for both Loan and Oz, too. "I'd be happy to buy you boys breakfast there at, say… nine o'clock?"

Logan glanced at Oz, who shrugged.

Logan grinned. "I could eat."

Walter chuckled, eyeing Logan's football player physique with a practical eye. "I bet you can, son."

Walter chuckled again, before getting to his feet. "Well, I'd better let you boys get back to your studying, then. I'll see you at Ruby's in the morning. And… thank you both for humoring an old man."

"Thank you for coming by, sir," Oz chirped immediately, like the nerd he was.

"It was nice to meet you," Logan said, actually meaning it this time. "And thank you for the sneakers, wherever you 'found' them."

Walter laughed, waving as he left.