Excerpt: The Memory Kiss

“Are they talking to you?” Paul asked. They were standing in the cemetery. Only a few hours had passed since his mother's funeral.
“No,” said Aris. She stood close beside him, looking at the dark turned earth.
“They are ignoring you?”
“I wouldn't put it like that.”
“Why won’t they talk to you?” Paul didn't want to think about his mother.
“I'd go mad if every ghost I saw engaged me in conversation. That'd be like if you walked down a city street and every stranger decided to talk to you. How would that feel?” she asked.
“But they are dead. Maybe they want to talk to somebody living.”
“Not as much as you might think. I'm a stranger to them and they have nothing to say. It's the living who want to talk to the dead. The dead aren't all that fire interested in talking to the living.”
“No final messages to those left behind then?”
“Sure, if they could get them to those people, but you're not one of those people. Ruth waited for years for you to meet someone like me.”
He tightened his hold on her hand. “I have been waiting years to meet someone like you.”
They were both silent. Finally, Aris spoke. “So, you could talk to Ruth?”
“No.” Paul took a deep breath. “So, I could talk to you.”
Her smile was slight, but there. “Okay. Talk to me then.”
“What's it like to see ghosts?”
“Like seeing people.” She shrugged.
“They never scared you?”
“They look like anyone--just shimmerier.”
Paul laughed at the word.
“And they don't stay forever," she said. "It isn't like I can see the ghost of Lincoln. He’s been dead too long. Eventually they fade.”
Paul looked around the graveyard. “And that's when you are really dead.”
“Maybe not. Maybe something else happens then.”
“Can we talk to them? Would it be all right if we walked around and talked to them?”
“What? Just go up and introduce ourselves?”
“Yeah.” He mimed the act of introduction. “Hello, my name is Paul and this is my …girlfriend Aris. Pleased to meet you.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Lover?”
Aris laughed. “This isn't a cocktail party. It's a graveyard.”
“But you see a few shimmery ghosts, right?”
“Well, yes.”
“What are they doing?”
“There is a couple over there.” She pointed to a tombstone several yards away that held two names. “They're whispering to each other.”
“We’re not the only lovers in the graveyard.”
“Paul.”
He held her hand. “And?”
She looked around. “A teenage boy is over there. Alone.”
“Like real life then.”
She nodded. “And I see a middle-aged man walking down the path. He looks pretty with the setting sun behind him like that.”
“A pretty middle-aged man?”
"You're middle age," she said, smiling.
"You think I'm pretty?"
“Just about anything is pretty if it shimmers.”
“I'll have to remember that," Paul replied. "Come on. Let’s talk to the couple. How old do they look?”
“She looks older. Look, I've never just introduced myself before. I'm not sure if I should.”
“Is there a book of etiquette on living/dead interaction?”
“Oh stop.”
“Well, then. What could be wrong? And what're they going to do? Take away your ghost talking license?”
“You think you are funny.”
“Take me over to them.” She led him around a few grave markers and tombstones, and Paul loved walking beside her. He did not want to dismiss what he had felt for Valerie. But this was different. Though Aris held back the flood of emotions that threaten to drown him from the inside out, he felt the risk of being with her. There was nothing he could do to guarantee she would stay.
“How old are you, Aris?” He was surprised to realize he didn’t know.
“Thirty-six, of course. Now hush.” She stopped at the tombstone and cleared her throat. She smiled at air. That was how it looked to Paul. He saw nothing but the tombstone. “Hello, excuse me. Sorry to bother you.” Her smile relaxed. “Yes. That’s right. My friend—”
Paul tugged at her hand.
“My boyfriend would like to meet you.”
Paul strained to see.
Aris laughed. “Yes. I know. Really?”
He thought he saw a line of silver that could be a woman’s hair.
“Well?” Aris looked at Paul. “What did you want to say?”
“Are they related?”
“They’re married.”
“Did they die at the same time? Is it okay to ask that?”
“And to think you're the one who made fun of the etiquette book.”
“I wasn’t making fun.”
Aris tilted her head toward the couple. “No. They didn’t. He died first. Twenty years before she did.”
“And he waited?”
Aris was listening to the couple. “He didn't have much choice, but that's what he wanted.”
“Does that mean she never met anyone else after he died?”
“Two other husbands, she says.”
“Are they all dead?”
“One is dead. Died with her in an accident. But he other is still alive.”
“There was no quarrel between the men?”
Aris shook her head. “She wants to know.” She looked at Paul. “Why you ask these questions. She thinks you worry too much about love.”
Paul read the tombstone. “Mrs. Lethem?” He hoped he was looking at where her face might be. “What questions should I ask?”
“Good job,” Aris whispered. “You’re looking right at her.” She raised her voice. “She says…”
“What? What did she say? Is it bad?”
Aris was flustered. “She said if you had died a few weeks ago, you'd have waited forever for the first girl who broke your heart.”
Paul started.
“But if you died today, you’d just have to wait for your true love.”
He lowered his voice. “And does she say who this true love is?”
“Who's this first girl?”
“I don’t care anymore,” Paul replied.
“They're asking us to leave them alone now. They want to be alone together.”
“But they have eternity for that, don’t they?”
“No. They don’t. But even if they did, they say they still have too many things to say.”
“May I ask one more question?”
Aris nodded. “The woman says okay.”
“What do you talk about when you're dead? I mean, if you don't have family problems, daily chores, and work to go on and on about—what do you talk about then?”
Aris listened. “They're telling each other everything they left out while they were alive. A few months ago they started telling each other their dreams.”
“The dead dream?”
“You said one more question.”
“But I can’t let that one go. Come on.”
“No. They don't dream. But they can now remember every dream they ever had in life and they're telling each other the best ones.”
“Wow.”
“Happy now?”
“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lethem. I appreciate your time.”
Aris pulled him back. “They're ignoring us already.”
“Let’s go talk to the boy.”
“I don’t know, Paul. Teenage boys aren’t my thing.”
“Good to hear.”
“I meant I am not very good at talking to them.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
They said nothing else as she took them to the boy who was now lying on the grass over his grave.
“Hi,” said Aris.
The boy scurried up to his feet. Paul could feel more of this boy’s emotion, more like he could feel Ruth’s. He hadn't been able to feel much from the couple. The boy was embarrassed. The boy was worried how he looked to this woman. “Hey,” Paul threw in, hoping to help the boy’s nerves.
“He says hi,” said Aris.
The boy’s tension rose. “He doesn't want to talk,” Aris continued. She frowned. “He is trying to fade faster. He thinks talking and being close to the living will slow the fading process down.”
“Is that like suicide for ghosts?” Paul asked.
“Hush.” Aris slapped his arm.
“Well?”
“Kind of.”
“Why? Why would he do that? Is that how he died?”
Aris listened. Paul strained even more to see, but the boy’s image escaped him.
“He didn't kill himself if that's what you mean,” she said.
“Then why does he want to kill himself now?”
“He doesn't see it that way. He… he wants to get to God. He feels he's being punished. He drowned…” She tilted her head. “He drowned in Lake Belle. And he always thought he'd be in heaven. He thinks that if he's good enough now, quiet enough, does right, he'll get to heaven.”
“But what could be right about lying on the ground and fading away?” Paul asked.
“He doesn’t know what else to do. And there's no one here to help. No charity or church. At least, he can’t find a church. He went a few times to the church of the living… but he saw no other fading people there… he hates to be around the living. Too much feeling.”
“Tell me about it,” mumbled Paul.
“After a lot of thought… he decided God wants him to be quiet.”
“Why would God want that?”
“He says he made too much noise and trouble in life.”
“So, why wouldn’t God send him to hell then?”
Aris listened. “Because he'll be forgiven.”
“Oh,” said Paul. “I hadn't thought anything about that. How does he—”
“We should go,” said Aris. “He wants to be left alone.”
Paul nodded to where he thought the boy was. “Sorry for bothering you. Good luck with… well, what you want.” He waited until they were yards away before speaking. “God is there waiting for us to fade?”
“I'm too tired to keep this up. No more chat.”
The sun reddened the grounds around them. “It's getting dark. The cemetery doesn't need us anymore.”