In the Middle of Summer

I tried my best not to lose my temper. Agreeing to help a ghost was one thing but having one of them walk into my house like it was nothing was completely unacceptable.

“Just because the door is open does not mean that it is an open invitation, okay?” I tell her in a warning tone of voice.

“I’m sorry, I misinterpreted the situation.”

“Come with me,” I whisper and walk to my backyard, that way I would be safe from other people listening in.

“What is it that you need?” I ask as looking at her.

“I wasn’t sure if your agreement to help me was still in place as seeing as you have… other plans.”

“Yes I am still going to help you… I just agreed to help somebody else first.”

That was technically not true but she didn’t need to know that.

“Is there any way you could help me, I’m afraid I’m running out of time.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“My daughter is moving away and I know she wants to start a new life and I just want her to know how sorry I am for what I did and that it wasn’t her fault. I want her to know now otherwise she’s going to live the rest of her life always blaming herself.”

“I’m not sure that’s the way it works, but I guess if it won’t take long I can go ahead and help you.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much.” She exclaims happily, almost on the verge of tears.

I can’t help but to smile. I didn’t think I could feel this happy for helping a ghost.

“Let’s get to business, how do you want me to pass the message?”

“I was thinking I could write her a letter and you could deliver it for me.”

“That’s it?” I ask surprised

“Yeah, and then it’s up to her to decide if she wants to forgive me or not.”

“Alright, well let me go get you a pen and paper, and you just wait here”

I walk back into the house and into my bedroom and I had almost forgotten than Brendon was in here.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“What did she want?” Claudine asks.

“Everything is fine, she’s just going to write a letter to her daughter and wants me to deliver it and then she can move on.”

“That’s not going to end well, you know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“How are you going to explain to her daughter how you got the letter?””

“I’ll tell her I found it.” I say with a shrug

“Then how is she supposed to believe that the letter is actually from her mom, she’s going to think it’s some kind of sick joke.”

“She has a point.” Brendon says with a nod.

“I’ll think of something else.” I mumble as I grab a notebook from my backpack and a pen.

I hurry down the stairs, out the front door and head to my backyard glad to see Mrs. Smith still waiting for me.

“Here,” I tell her and hand her the notebook and pen.

“Thank you,” she says and begins to write.

I look at her curiously; I had seen Mrs. Smith around a lot, mainly at the bus stop since she knew I took it pretty much all the time. But I had never acknowledged her until today. She always talked about her daughter, how badly she needed to make up her mistakes, and how she needed her daughter to be able to forgive herself. I was curious as to why her daughter would blame herself for something her own mother did.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask quietly.

“You want to know what I did?”

“Yeah.”

She looks up from the notebook and sighs as she turns to look at me.

“Her father, my husband used to hit me a lot, the worst part was that he would sometimes do it front of her, and I could see the fear in her, the confusion. How could I not stop him? Why did I keep saying I was in love with him? Because I was foolish, young, and love is blind.” She pauses and looks back down.

“One day she came into my room when he was at work and she begged for us to leave, to start a new life but I told her that it was never going to happen and I yelled at her to stop saying such stupid things, that this was all her fault,” I could hear her voice breaking.

“I just wanted to protect her, if she said any of those things to him; I don’t know what he would have done. One night he came home, drunk as usual and he started shouting because we didn’t greet him when he came home and all hell broke loose, I told Amy to go to her room and close her door that everything was going to be okay, that everything would be over soon, except it wasn’t like any other night, he had brought home a gun and I pleaded- I begged him not to but he just kept telling me that he was tired of me and he couldn’t stand seeing my pathetic face and he shot me before shooting himself.”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” I whisper putting my hand on her back

She looks up with teary eyes and can’t help but to look at my hand in amazement.

“Thank you. I just need to tell my Amy that it was not her fault, that it was all him.”

I nod and bring back my hand. “I promise you I will deliver the letter.”

She finishes writing the letter and rips out a few sheets and hands them to me. She writes her daughters address on a different piece of paper.

“You’re not coming with me?” I ask

She shakes her head, “I don’t think I could handle it,” she tells me and then disappears.

I take in a deep breath and look up the address on my phone, I was glad it was only a couple of blocks away.

“Hey, where are you going?”

I look back and see Brendon standing by the front door.

“To deliver a letter, do you want to come?”

He nods and catches up to me.

“I brought you something,” he says and I look at him curiously.

He takes my free hand and drops some headphones.

“So people think you’re talking on the phone instead of ghosts, or even worse, yourself.” He says with a big smile.

I return the smile and put the headphones on.

“This is such a great idea.”

“Just plug them into your cell phone so it looks legit.” He laughs.

I do as he says, “I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about this.”

“It’s because you don’t have my amazing brain.”

“At least I have beauty,” I say jokingly

“You got me there.”

I smile and continue walking but as I get closer to Amy’s house I can’t help but to feel sad. How horrible it must feel to think you were the cause of both your parent’s deaths. To think that you were the root of all their problems.

“Are you okay Beth?” Brendon asks as I stop in front of the house.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I say quietly.

“Of course you can.”

“What am I supposed to tell her?”

“Sometimes the truth is the better option.”

I sigh and walk to the front.

“Here goes nothing,” I mumble to myself and knock.

There is no answer. I knock again, still no answer.

“Maybe she’s not home.” I tell Brendon

“She’s home.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Before he can answer the door opens.

I can’t help but to gasp, Amy looked like she could be Mrs. Smith’s sister.

“Yes?” She asks.

“Amy Smith?” I ask

“I’m Amy Castallo now, what do you want.”

“I have a letter to deliver.”

“Is the post office not open or something?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a different type of letter,” I say as I take the folded pieces of paper out of my pocket.

“They’re from your mother.”

Her face turns into a scowl, “Leave my property.”

“Amy this is going to sound crazy but I can talk to the dead and your mo-”

“GET OUT!” she shouts slapping me on the face

I gasp and grab my stinging cheek in shock.

“NO! I promised her I was going to deliver you her letter, please just read it.”

She looks at me, fury burning in her eyes but takes the letter anyway.

“Leave now.”

“She’s really sorry Amy, and don’t blame yourself.”

“Leave”

I nod and walk away, she slams the door.

“Maybe the truth wasn’t the best option.”

“Probably not,” I mumble starting to taste blood in my mouth.

“I do have to say though; I did see that slap coming.”

“Thanks for the lovely warning.”

“You’re welcome.”

I roll my eyes unable to stop the smile forming in my lips.