Page 16 of Ghost

M ason stood with his two friends, looking at what remained of the brick wall. The wall that had hidden Francis Watson from the rest of the world for almost a hundred years.

“Now what?” Mitch asked. “Do we just... get on with it?”

“I... uh....” Mason rubbed his chest. “I guess so. Maybe I should ask Francis how he feels.”

“I feel.”

Mason jumped about a foot off the ground and then spun around. “Shit! You scared the hell outta me! Don’t do that!”

Francis smiled. “I do apologize.” He bowed slightly. He then turned around, looking at the room. “This room has changed a great deal.”

“Mason? Who are you talking to?” Mitch stood next to Mason, looking in the same direction as Mason.

“I take it that your friends do not have the capability to see me?” Francis asked, smiling broadly.

“Nope. Just me.” Mason smiled back.

Francis made a face at Mitch causing Mason to burst out laughing.

“Is... is he here?” Paul whispered, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Mason answered, smiling at Paul. “Francis is here.”

“Get him to... you know, prove that he’s here,” Mitch said, poking Mason in the ribs with his elbow. “So we know he’s here.”

“It takes a tremendous amount of energy to move things,” Francis said. “It took everything I had to knock that large bucket over so that it would deter my mother.”

“He’s the one who knocked the bucket of mud over yesterday,” Mason explained. “Says it takes all of his energy to do something like that.”

“I believe him,” Paul said, almost whispering.

“Hey, I just realized, you’re down here,” Mason said excitedly. “And... you look even more solid, if that’s even the right thing to say.”

Francis laughed. “Yes. I was able to descend the stairs after you left me yesterday.”

“Um... what about you know who?”

“I do not know. I have not been able to feel her presence since the incident.” He motioned towards the brick wall, or what remained of it.

“Can you remember any more about what happened?” Mason asked softly.

Francis looked once again at what was left of the brick wall, and then to Mason. “I remember... everything?”

Mason cleared his throat. “And?”

“I wish to not think about it at the moment,” Francis said quietly. “I hope you understand.”

Mason nodded. “Okay... how about how old are you... or were when you died?”

Francis smiled slightly. “I was twenty-seven years of age. I was born in 1887, the year of our Lord.” Francis looked around the room. “My uncle lived on the opposite corner on this street. My dear cousin Ellen, whom I adored, would have been but a small girl then.”

“How old was Ellen when you died?”

Francis laughed. “She will not be pleased if you were to know her age, I do not think. However,” Francis leaned in towards Mason. “She was at the age of eight. I remember her birthday clearly. I gave her a porcelain doll and it was wrapped in a blue ribbon, the same color of her eyes.”

Mason smiled broadly. “Got it.”

Francis looked at the new wood paneled room. “Did you do this?” he asked, walking into the new room.

“Yeah, my two buddies here got it for me as a housewarming gift.” Mason followed Francis into the room, Paul and Mitch close behind him.

“It is stunning. I would have liked such a room.” Francis smiled. “I wholeheartedly approve.”

“He likes the new room,” Mason almost boasted to Mitch and Paul.

Mitch scowled. “Well, ain’t that just mighty kind of him.”

Mason looked at Mitch. “Don’t be an ass.”

Francis tilted his head back and laughed. When he stopped, he placed his right hand over his stomach. “I do like your friends, Mason.”

“Yeah, hang around and you might change your mind.” Mason cut his eyes towards Mitch.

“What’s he saying about me?” Mitch asked, looking around the room as if he might find Francis.

“He said he liked my friends.” Mason shook his head.

“Ah, then he has good taste.” Mitch took a little bow. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Hey...uh, Mas... why don’t you ask him what we should... you know, do about that wall,” Paul asked. It sounded like a voice he might use in church.

“Yes, the wall.” Francis walked into the other room and stood in front of it. “Tear it down. Remove all remnants of it.” He turned to Mason. “It was my tomb. A tomb that took me from this world.” He faced the wall again. “This wall took my life.”

Then like a light turning off, he was gone.

Mason sighed heavily. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

“What did he say, Mas?” Paul asked

“Tear it down.”

“Is he still here,” Mitch asked, looking around.

“No. He left.” Mason started collecting the fallen brick.

“What’cha gonna do with this brick?” Paul asked, as he too began to pick them up.

“I don’t know.” Mason answered with his arms full. “I think for right now I’m just going to stack them next to the wall outside. I’ll figure out something to do with them.”

They all worked in silence, clearing out all the brick and remaining debris from the wall. They were done by the time lunchtime rolled around.

“What would you guys like to do for lunch?” Mitch asked. “I’m a little tired of sandwiches.”

Mason looked up. “It must be Nick’s day off. It doesn’t matter to me, guys. Whatever you’d like.”

“I’d like to have a good, homecooked meal,” Paul said, rubbing the dirt and dust on his shorts.

Mason pulled out his wallet. “How about a couple of burgers for now and we’ll go and find us a place to have dinner tonight. A real sit-down meal.”

“That works for me,” Paul agreed.

Mason handed him some cash. “Take Mitch with you. We also need a bag of ice and of course, we’re going to need more beer for later.”

Mitch grabbed his shirt off the banister of the stairs. “Okay, sounds like a plan, Stan.”

Paul patted Mason on the shoulder. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Mason only nodded as he watched his friends leave.

He was alone in his house for the first time in a while.

He looked around before sitting down, leaning against one of the new kitchen cabinets.

Mason couldn’t help it: he started to cry.

It wasn’t fair that Francis had had his life stolen from him and by his own mother. That had to be the worst.

Mason’s relationship with his own mother wasn’t great, but he didn’t think she’d ever want to kill him. Why? Why would Francis’ mother do such a thing? Did he do something so horrific that she felt she had to?

“Please, Mason, do not mourn for me.”

Mason looked up to see Francis squatting in front of him.

“I can’t help it.” Mason wiped his eyes and stood up. “It... shouldn’t have happened.”

“There are a lot of things that should never happen, but they do.” Francis leaned in closer to Mason. “Thank you, however, for thinking of me in such a kind manner. You are a kindhearted and gentle man, and I am glad that you are here.”

Mason stared at Francis for a long moment. “I would like to kiss you.”

Francis’ eyebrows shot up, a look of surprise on his face. “Kiss me?”

“I’m sorry.” Mason felt his face get hot. “I thought... well, I kinda thought you might be into me.”

“Into you?” Francis frowned. “What does that mean?”

Mason took a deep breath. “I’m gay. I like men. I got the feeling that you might be too.”

“Gay?” Francis blinked a few times. “Gay means happy. You can speak of such things? I think I am confused.”

“I’m so, so sorry.” Mason stepped backwards, bumping into the cabinet behind him. “I... I just thought you might like... you know... be attracted to men too.”

Francis stared at Mason. Mason was feeling uncomfortable and started to shift his feet around, wondering what he should do now. Leave?

“I would like very much to kiss you, Mason.” Francis took another step forward. Had he not been a ghost, they’d be almost touching. “I find you quite attractive. To feel your lips against mine, you in my arms, would be like heaven to me.”

A whoosh of air left Mason’s lungs. He didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath. He did feel a little lightheaded but wasn’t sure if it was because of holding his breath or if it was that Francis was standing so close to him.

Francis leaned forward as if he were going to kiss Mason.

He hovered close, their lips almost touching, but not, of course.

Mason could smell all those wonderful smells he’d experienced when he’d gone through Francis.

It was so beautiful. He let his eyes close and imagined that he was kissing this handsome, amazing man, who wasn’t really a man at all.

Mason opened his eyes and looked directly into Francis’ dark brown eyes. He could get lost in those eyes. They were soft and kind looking, the kind of eyes that he’d often dreamed of.

Something caught Mason’s attention. Something behind Francis. It was Francis’ mother.

“Look,” Mason said, pointing towards her.

Francis turned. The old crone’s mouth opened but nothing came out. This seemed to surprise her. She looked startled.

Mason couldn’t help it. “What’s the matter, you ol’ bat? Cat got your tongue?”

Francis looked at Mason with an astonished look on his face. Mason could only guess that no one had ever spoken to her like that before.

She flew into a rage. Her mouth was open but no sound came from it.

She was racing through the rooms, going right through the new, paneled room.

Mason also noticed that she seemed more transparent, less solid looking, like when he first saw Francis.

It was obvious that she was furious. Francis took a step backwards, standing right in front of Mason as if to protect him.

Mason felt the room start to spin and then darken. It was as if he were disappearing. The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor, the old woman still raging and Francis kneeling next to him, a worried look on his face.

“Mason, are you well? Mason, are you all right?”

Mason could only nod.

The room suddenly turned cold. Freezing cold. He could see his own breath. Mason noticed that the old woman was still, a look of shock on her face. A small black spot appeared beneath her. She stared at the spot. It was like a wet drop of oil on the floor that was spreading wider and wider.

There was a sucking noise, like when there was something stuck in the hose of a vacuum cleaner. Mrs. Watson lifted her head and stared at Francis, her son. For a brief moment, Mason thought he saw regret or remorse, or something else cross her face. Maybe remorse?

Then she was being sucked down into the black wetness. She didn’t appear to resist it and then she and the slick wet spot was gone. She was no more.

Mason looked at Francis. His face was like that of stone. No expression at all.

“Francis?”

Francis turned towards Mason. “She is gone. For good.”