Page 61 of Giving Up The Ghost
Finally. finally, the ones who wanted to go had gone. The ones who wanted to remain… Well, some of them had vanished. Just needing permission, too, I thought. Permission and ability. The broken lines had freed them, but they just needed some help to go. “A bit like when you free a wild animal,” my father said, his voice startling me.
“Dad.”
“Ozzy,” he smiled, holding his arms out to me, then pausing. “Shall we try?”
I nodded, his image wavering, sending a bolt of panic through my chest. “Wait, don’t?—”
“I’m still here,” he soothed, cold fingers brushing my face ineffectually. “You’re crying is all.”
What I wanted most right then in the entire universe was to hug my father. I couldn’t remember what it felt like, what he smelled like. Hearing his voice for the first time in twenty years was a shock and a heartbreak at the same time. His hands moved like he wanted to touch me again, but he curled them and tucked them down by his sides. “It’s okay,” I said quickly. “I don’t mind. It’s just a little cold and?—”
“And,” he said gently, “it’s not that. It’s the fact I can’t feel you, either.”
Dad dropped to sit beside me, both of us unable to look away from the other. “I’ve been mad for a long time,” I whispered. “I didn’t know why you never came to me. I didn’t…”
He shook his head. “I wanted to. When I was able to… to think, I suppose. Time is strange on this side of things. I’m only just realizing how long it’s been. Oscar, there’s nothing that will make this fair, or right. Or fix it. It will always be terrible and wrong. I’ve missed your entire life! Shit, I had so much to teach you, so many things I dreamed of doing with you.”
A sob broke free, raw and hard, sucking my breath away. Folding over, I buried my face in my hands, body shaking as I struggled to breathe, to talk. “Dad,” was all I could manage. It was the only word I knew at that moment.
“I miss you. Every moment,” he murmured. “Even when I’m confused. And things seem to blur together. I know that I miss you. And Oscar, I need you to know that I was so proud to be your father. I still am.”
Cold hands touched my shoulders, tugging on me, and making me sit up. “I’m so fucking mad at Grandmere,” I admitted. “She never talked about you. All I wanted for so long was to just see you and Mum again. I… tried. I tried a lot, when I was a teenager. I tried. And I was mad at both of you too, a bit. I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m sorry that I was mad at you. I?—”
“Oscar,” he murmured, his voice pained.His voice! Oh, that’s what he sounds like, that’s how he says my name!“If I—if we could have, we’d have been there every day. If I’d known we were going to be in the accident, I’d have left sooner. Or later. Just avoided that damned bridge.”
“Are you staying? Are you… Can you? Do you want to?”Please want to…
“I don’t know,” he admitted, motioning for me to sit on the steps. He joined me, both of us watching the waiting spirits mingle like some spectral office party at the far end of the cellar. “I’m not sure how long we’ve been here. I do know I was with your mother. Some of us weren’t as aware as others,” he said. “Me, Charlotte,” there was venom on that name. “One or two others.”
“Dad,” I whispered. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t let Nadine sway me… My ego, I suppose, is what caused this and?—”
His tone was sharp but not unkind. “Oscar, stop that this instant. Charlotte and Nadine were not good people. They were already working their grifts before she contacted you.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning and sounding so tired. “Did you know, the last time I saw you when I was alive, you were asleep?”
And there were the tears again. “No. I, um. I don’t remember the last time.”
“Well, you were only five. Almost six. You’d been playing all day. Hard, too.” He chuckled. “You and your mum had been to a birthday party for some kid or other. I don’t even recall.” He moved to nudge me with his shoulder. It was cold and soft, and he drew back, frowning. “I forgot.” He sighed. “Well. You were sticky—you’d had so much juice. And you were so full of cake and treats. Had this little”—he made a fiddly motion with one hand—“giraffe in one of your wee baby ravioli fists. It was cheap plastic tat, but you’d kick up a fuss if we tried to take it. So, when you fell asleep all messy and holding that giraffe for dear life, we decided to let you stay that way till we got back.”
“Where did you go?” I whispered.
He stared at his feet. “Not too far. Just down the road, we thought. We came up to Avesford to visit Da. He was at the house for a few days. We left you with Sandrine—she was a neighbor of ours in London. Nice old lady. Had a dozen kids about, mostly her grandkids. But I remember setting you down in this wee pack-and-play. I felt like I needed to look at you extra hard, extra long.”
I nodded. “Sometimes, some of the ghosts I’ve met, they say they felt like their last day was important somehow. Like a moment needed to be imprinted. Like they needed to?—”
“Like we needed to remember.”
I nodded again. At that moment, I wasn’t Oscar Fellowes Famous Medium and Grown Adult Man. I was a little boy missing his dad. “Dad… Are you, um. Are you going to be around much? I know now that you weren’t able, before. But… but sometimes I thought you were. I would think I could feel you,” I touched my heart, my temple. “But now maybe it was just my imagination. But… can you stay? Can you? I just want to know if you… if you want to. Even if you can’t, do youwantto?”
“I very much do, Ozzy. So much. I…” He huffed a small, soundless laugh. “It’s so strange to say it, but I don’t know the first thing about being a ghost other than being stuck here. I know, for a time, I wasn’t. Because I remember being with your mother. I remember the bridge. But it’s been a long time.”
“I just… I miss you.”
“Here’s a secret Violet would definitely never tell you.” His smile was so much like mine. The shape of his eyes, his nose. It was almost a mirror, looking at him, but the way his eyes crinkled was all him. The sharp jut of his cheekbones. The way his hair fell across his forehead… He’d died too young, barely an adult, barely having lived. “We really do live on in the hearts of our loved ones. I know, I know, it’s cheesy as hell, but it’s true. I can feel you, Oscar.” He pressed his hand over his chest, closing his eyes as if it hurt. “I can feel you out there. And I know you’re there. And loving me.”
My breath broke with a sob. “Dad…”
The other ghosts politely moved further into the cellar, feigning interest in anything else.
“Now. Tell me everything,” he said, touching my face as he tried to soothe my sobs.
