THE JOURNEY OF SHEIRA HART

12 | Ghost Gossip

I didn't believe in ghosts. I'm sure my brother didn't either. Until now. But like my mother would always say whenever we can't find anything she wants us to find: Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there. You're just not looking carefully.

Ghosts are around. Some lurks behind your fridge, some inside your closet, and some are under your bed. Some would even be bold enough to follow you around, standing close behind you.

My brother is someone my mother would always yell at for not finding even the simplest of things. You could ask him to fetch you a ladle and he wouldn't find it even if it was just in his line of sight. 

And of all the times for him to use his temporary blindness, he didn't use it today.

Because he saw us.

My brother just saw us.

It took me a few seconds before I realized what just happened. I faced Mikhael. "You saw that too, right? You saw how his eyes moved to avoid eye contact with me, right?"

Mikhael nodded. "I did."

"I mean, I never knew Mars could see ghosts!"

"Well, this is probably the first time he's seen one."

"We have to talk to him."

I was about to walk through the door when Mikhael grabbed my arm.

"And then what?"

I gave him an incredulous look. "To gather some information, duh?"

His eyes lit up. "You're a genius!" I don't know if that was sincere or he was being sarcastic.

He didn't wait for me to talk because he walked past the wall. I rolled my eyes and followed him. I trekked down the stairs where I could see some of my relatives walking by. I could still see my father talking with one of my uncles but I couldn't see where Mikhael is.

"Where on earth is that guy?" I mumbled as I stepped into the living room where it was much more crowded compared to the other parts of the house. I noted the visitors and realized almost all of my neighbors were there. I don't really understand the purpose of a funeral but now that I see myself put in an urn where people could look and cry, it doesn't feel comfortable at all. I've always thought funerals were useless. For someone like me who doesn't believe in ghosts, I thought funerals are just for the ones left behind to feel better from a loss. It's not bad. I just thought they're doing it not for the dead but for themselves. To make themselves feel better.

I sighed. I'm glad I said I wanted my body to be cremated. They usually talk about it over dinner. Just some random topic my sister would come up with. She'll tell us what she wants to do if she died. I envied her optimism back then. Because I have always thought once you died, you'd just stop seeing, stop feeling, stop breathing. And then that's it. You'll rot few meters underground. That's what I thought the end of life is. But turns out, my sister was right all along. 

There's a place where the dead go. And not that I thought about it, my sister did say she wants to ride unicorns once she dies. Too bad, Melissa, you couldn't ride unicorns there but you surely could jump over the bridge and feel suicidal for a moment before you float on top of a rainbow. That should feel almost the same as riding unicorns, right?

I scanned the surroundings and I couldn't see where Mikhael is. I couldn't see where Mars is either.

I walked towards the kitchen and found my mother bracing her arms on the sink. I stopped and looked at her. Her back was slightly curved. Her hair that was fixed into a tight bun was almost going down as I could see streaks of her fell down. It was when I stepped closer that I realized she was crying. No one else was in the kitchen. All of the visitors were in the living room.

I never saw my mother cry. I never heard her cry. I've always thought she's really strong because I have never seen her like this. I saw her heaved a deep breath, her hands were still braced on the sink. With one swift motion, she turned the water on and washed her face. Maybe to freshen herself up. Or maybe to erase the traces of her tears on her cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirror and took another deep breath. With expert hands, she did her hair again and tied it neatly into a tight bun.

Another deep breath and she straightened her black dress. She then walked out of the kitchen, as if nothing happened. As if she didn't have a breakdown earlier. As if she wasn't grieving. And as I looked at her I realized my mother is strong not because I never saw her cry. My mother is strong because she cries but still manages to fix herself and appear strong for other people. For our family. For my siblings. She's strong because she sets aside her feelings to take care of us.

All I could do was to watch her back as one of our neighbors hugged her. It's a shame I didn't get to hug her one last time. Or if I did, I couldn't remember it. So I stepped back into the living room and walked closer to her. Even though I know I couldn't touch her, I have to at least, feel her. One last time.

So with my arms open, I wrapped it around her and closed my eyes. Feeling her one last time. Letting her feel me one last time. I felt her stood frozen and I slowly unwrapped my arms around her and stepped back. He turned to face me but her eyes weren't meeting mine. I reached to touch her cheeks and I smiled as my hand just passed through her. He stared at the space for more than a minute before she faced our neighbor again. And the sadness started creeping into me making me wish I was still there. Making me wish my mother could feel me one last time. Could hug me one last time.

I was about to turn around when somebody dashed in our direction and stopped in front of me. He had his arms wide open as if shielding my mom from something. And I realized Mars was shielding our mother from something. From me.

"Why this little—" I was about to smack him when he closed his eyes and clamped his mouth. He could really see us. But I am not certain if he could really see us clearly or he's deliberately avoiding eye contact with me. Before I could even step closer to him, he dashed and ran straight towards me causing me to stagger in my feet. I didn't know that could affect me at all.

I looked at the perfectly arranged table where I could see my urn and where I saw Mikhael emerged. I furrowed my brows as I looked at him walking straight towards me. "Would you stop doing that?"

He looked at me innocently. "Stop doing what?"

"Walking through that table over there," I said and he just shrugged.

"I couldn't help it. I have to use the shortcut."

I just shook my head and started running to where Mars ran off to. I don't know why he was acting that way. I mean, sure, seeing a ghost would definitely freak somebody out especially if it's your dead sister whose body has been turned to ashes and put in an urn. Anybody would freak out with that. But still, I am his sister. Do I look that unsightly for him to react like that? Even went as far as shielding my mother from me? Who does he think I am? The Grim Reaper?

But still, Mars wouldn't have reacted like that if he saw the actual Grim Reaper. I might as well look more like a Grim Reaper than Mr. Grim himself. Damn. Why does he have to be so ethereally beautiful?

"He couldn't see us," Mikhael said and I looked at him as we passed through the main door.

"What do you mean he couldn't see us? Did you see how he protected my mother from me? He knows I was there."

"He knows you're there but he doesn't know it's you and he can't hear us."

I stopped and looked at him. "What?"

"He could only see a shadow shaped like a man. Explains why he's so freaked out."

I closed my eyes firmly and gritted my teeth. "This mission isn't going to be that easy, is it?"

"They gave us more than two months to find out how you died. With the long time frame, this wouldn't be an easy one, don't you think?"

I exhaled and looked at the watch on my wrist. "Then we can't get anything from him. Let's not go after my brother and give him a nightmare that would him for all his life."

"The old man who saw us earlier could see us because he's old," he said and I just raised my brow at him.

"So how does that explain it?"

"Older people tend to have more spiritual energy compare to young ones. The one we saw on the street is a rare one."

"Where did you learn all this?"

He gave me a look as if saying that the answer should be obvious enough. "I've been staying in the Afterlife for several months now, darling. I've talked to different kinds of people, of course. If only you spent more time there to know more about how these things work, then you shouldn't be asking those questions now."

"That's the reason why I brought you here with me, isn't it?" I tapped his shoulder. "Be my tour guide," I said and smirked at him.

I heard him groan. "As if I have a choice."

I only grinned at him and looked at the house. The house where I grew up for eighteen years. I watched the people inside my house, talking to each other. I wonder what they were talking about. I wonder if they were talking about how young I was to die.

Truth is, death doesn't choose. It doesn't care if you're too young to die. If it's your time, it's your time. Nobody knows when you'll die until you die. That has always been what I believed even when I was still alive. But despite that, I have never prepared myself for death. I just don't think too much about it. I am not scared of death, I am not scared of life either. I just believed that dying means I would stop doing the things I used to do. And that's something I am not yet ready to let go of. So I don't think too much about it. Despite knowing people could die anytime if Death chooses to, I still didn't prepare myself for it.

I've always thought I wanted to die in a not so painful way. Like dying because I suddenly failed to wake up one day would be a great painless way to die. But as I saw my reflection back then when Mr. Grim showed it to me, remembering the odd angles of my arms, I realized, how I died...it must have hurt a lot.

"What are you thinking of?" I heard Mikhael asked. I continued to stare at the house.

"I'm thinking of listening to what those people are talking about."

I didn't wait for his response and walked towards a group of ladies. I remember them. They're ladies, living near us. They're the same age as my mother and I remember them visiting our house on certain days to drink tea and gossip. As time passes by, their members are increasing and I never really paid attention to them whenever they visit our house. All they do is admire my mother's garden which is certainly what I hated to be involved in.

"Poor Maercella is barely holding it together," one woman said as she looked at the door where she could see my mom directly. She looked stout and her tight dress didn't do its job to emphasize her remaining curves. I remember my mom introducing me to them and them to me but I didn't really make an effort to remember their names that time. "She has stopped tending to her gardens."

I rolled my eyes. "I just died and you expect my mother to tend her gardens? And besides, the flowers from her gardens must have been all used up with all these decorations."

I heard Mikhael chuckle from a distance and I just gave him a glare.

"She stopped going to our tea session, either," a slim lady said.

"Duh!"

What on earth are these ladies expecting from a woman who just lost her daughter? Of course, she'd grieve! Tending the gardens and attending tea parties isn't exactly my mom's definition of grieving.

"She probably is going to leave the group," another petite woman said and I just groaned and walked away from them. I couldn't get any useful information from them. At a funeral, somebody should be talking about how I died.

I walked inside and went back to climb to the second floor where I found my uncles and my dad talking. I walked closer, enough to hear what they were talking about.

"The kids are still in shock and Maercella is just...she doesn't sleep at night and would spend her time inside Sheira's room, hugging her clothes."

I chewed on my cheek. So that's why my room looked so tidy. My mother always stays there, apparently.

"I don't know when we're going to go back to normal. Not for a while, I think."

I saw my uncle clapped my dad's shoulder. "Everything happened too fast." Then silence covered the whole second floor. I stepped close and touched my father's cheek. I hope I wasn't arguing with him before I died. We tend to argue a lot. That's just because we have the same attitude and one doesn't like to be bested by the other. If I did argue with him before all of this happened, I am truly regretful. For everything I have done. And what I didn't do when I had the chance. So just like what I did to my mother, I opened my arms and hugged him. Even though I couldn't touch him and he couldn't feel me. But I know, he felt the cold gush of wind as I saw him wrap his coat tighter.

I smiled and saw Mikhael looking at the urn. I rolled my eyes and called him.

He gave me a questioning look.

"Stop looking at my dead body," I said and looked at the kitchen where I could see Mars looking in our direction. I groaned.

"We should really get out of here before my brother starts throwing things at the shadow figures he sees." I stepped down from the steps and went to where Loren was seated. Beside her is a girl, 6 years younger than me. People would always say we would definitely pass off as twins if we were the same age. Melissa looked pretty in her curly hair, which she got from our mother. Whereas my hair was just straight. She was talking with Loren and I smiled as I saw her smile too. I stepped closer and wrapped her in my arms. I looked at Mars who was shaking, hiding behind the kitchen door.

"Let's go," I told Mikhael as I stepped away from Melissa.

"Where are we going?"

"We are going to find out how I died," I answered.

And it sounded so sure that for a moment, I believed I could really do it.

I could find out how I died. 

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