19
Message Received
Maria screamed into her walkie-talkie, “Sebastian! Can you hear me?” She turned up the volume. “Are you there, Sebastian?” She waited, staring into the face of the plastic T. rex. Maria bolted out of her bedroom, brushing past her mother’s newspaper clippings. Her palm sweated while holding the walkie-talkie as she took inventory of the boxes in the kitchen.
“I read you,” replied the dinosaur underneath a blanket of static.
Maria felt a smile stretch from ear to ear. “Sebastian! I need your help. Can you come downstairs?” She waited long enough to watch a fly land on the empty fruit bowl.
“I’ll be right there,” replied the fuzzy voice from the toy.
Maria carefully turned off her walkie-talkie and hid it back under her mattress. Then she sprinted down the hallway, sliding in her socks until she reached the front door. The door slammed from the apartment upstairs, and Sebastian descended the stone stairs.
Before he could knock, Maria swung open the door. “Come in,” she said, pulling him inside.
Sebastian entered with some hesitation, taking in his surroundings as if he were entering a haunted house.
“I need you to help me pack,” said Maria. “And don’t ask questions!”
Sebastian’s mouth fell open. “Are you moving?”
“There’s no time. I’ll explain later.” Maria handed Sebastian a box. His large, unblinking eyes took everything in.
“Follow me,” Maria ordered. She dragged him into the kitchen and pulled open the pantry and cupboards. “Clear all this out into the box.”
“But—”
“Later! There isn’t time.”
Sebastian grabbed Maria’s arm. “You have a lot of explaining to do!”
“EXPLAINING!” squawked a voice in the other room.
Sebastian let go and jumped. “Was that your mother?”
“It’s just her parrot,” replied Maria, before she swooped her arm through the pantry, knocking junk food into a box already full of beef jerky, chips, and cookies. But a slight smile appeared that she couldn’t suppress. She was relieved that even Sebastian thought that parrot was creepy.
Sebastian turned his hat around and began to work, taping up a box. But then he stopped. “Why are we packing junk food?”
Maria shrugged before she shut the box and labeled it FOOD in black Sharpie.
After they were done in the kitchen, Maria handed Sebastian another box and dragged him into her mother’s bedroom. She flung open the closet door and pointed at her mother’s collection of coats. “Fill the boxes with these furs,” she ordered.
Sebastian dropped the box to the floor and pointed at Maria’s bed. “Someone sleeps here?”
Maria carefully ignored him and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with a trash bag. Then she ripped each and every obituary from the wall of her mother’s bedroom.
The wall was white under the clippings, not a dull mustard like the rest of the apartment.
Sebastian sneezed in the closet. There was a harsh screech of hangers across the bar. “I’m allergic to dust mites,” he said.
Maria crumpled the obituary clippings and wiped the dust off her fingers. She glanced at the benevolent face of her grandmother on the faded poster and carefully pried off the tacks holding it in place. The poster smelled old, like Mrs. Fisher’s home. She shut her eyes and took in the scent of Mrs. Fisher. She knew if they hurried, they could make it there and back before her mother and Mr. Fox returned. Sebastian might even cut her time in half, if he did what he was told and didn’t ask questions.
Maria taped the rolled-up poster to keep it in place. Then she swung around to find Sebastian lugging the heavy box of coats from the closet.
“What do you want me to do with the mattress and blanket in the closet?”
“Leave it for now,” replied Maria as she took the box from Sebastian and brought it into the kitchen.
“Maria?” Sebastian asked in a timid voice, following her into the kitchen. “Maria, where is your bedroom?”
Maria ignored him and filled a Styrofoam cup with water. Then she took a swig to buy herself some time before answering. She knew better than to tell him the truth about where she slept. After she’d seen his room, it would make him uncomfortable to see how she lived. Maria had to change the subject. “We have to get everything packed so I can take you to the treasure. You still want to find it, don’t you?”
“Yes, but WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” Sebastian said. “Why are we packing? Are you moving? And where are your pa—”
“There isn’t time,” Maria said.
When the boxes were neatly stacked in the kitchen, Maria slipped on her shoes. “You have your MetroCard?” she asked.
“Yes,” answered Sebastian, “but where are we going?”
Maria pulled him through her apartment to the front door. Then she pushed her friend from her dark cave into the lively afternoon of the outside world.
“I’ll race you to the train!” Maria said before she pushed the gate wide open and shot out.
Sebastian took a step through the gate and paused. Then he shook his head and said, “Wait for me!”
They flew down the sidewalk, dodging dog walkers and kids at play.
Maria’s heart beat rapidly, like a tiny bird that had just been set free.
“The blank canvas is the hardest for the artist to harness,” read Mrs. Fisher. She paused in front of the window in her living room and cleared her throat. “But false starts and mess-ups are part of the process…”
Maria gave Sebastian a sideways glance on the sofa and smiled. Then she took her last bite of the sandwich Mrs. Fisher had prepared for lunch. That afternoon, the widow had performed a few of her songs on the piano before she’d spun some of her favorite records. Albums by John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and Donald Byrd were strewn about the floor with her sheet music. Maria had suddenly remembered to give Mrs. Fisher the poem, and to her disappointment, the widow was stumped.
“I was his student that failed when I fell,” continued Mrs. Fisher, her eyes glued to the message. “I was his student…” she mumbled. “Student.” Mrs. Fisher paced back and forth in front of the window, stepping over a Billie Holiday record.
Sebastian bent down to pet Archimedes, but the cat darted back behind the sofa.
Maria waited for Mrs. Fisher to stop pacing. She’d felt the cold tingling of Edward’s presence all afternoon but didn’t want to tell Sebastian about him. If only Edward could have just TOLD them where the treasure was! These riddles and poems were driving her bonkers. She hoped with all her heart that this letter would jog Mrs. Fisher’s memory so she could solve the riddle of who Edward really was once and for all.
“Now … Edward. Edward,” said Mrs. Fisher to herself. “My memory must be failing me. My husband had a lot of students.”
Archimedes peeked his head out from behind the sofa and nudged Sebastian’s hand. But Sebastian had given up on petting the cat.
Maria snapped her fingers until she had the cat’s attention, then she scooped him in her arms and cradled Archimedes as if he were a baby. She stood up with him and meandered across the living room to the mirror where she could admire her reflection with him again.
Inside the full-length mirror was an eleven-year-old girl with a feisty cat … and just behind her were two friends. If Maria could freeze this moment in time, she would, because in that reflection, at that precise moment, was a snapshot of everything that made her feel happy. The afternoon sun beamed through the window and fell across the room like a warm blanket.
Oh! If only this moment would last!
But then the glow in the room faded, and Maria abruptly turned from the mirror. An icy chill shot down her back, and she dropped the cat. “Edward!” Maria called. He must have been losing his patience with her, she thought.
Mrs. Fisher stopped pacing. Both the widow and Sebastian stared at Maria.
Maria shivered, rubbing her arms as Archimedes darted behind the curtains.
Sebastian pushed his glasses up. “Who’s Edward?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Fisher added. “Who IS Edward?” She breezed past the sofa and stood beside Maria before turning to Sebastian. “I apologize, Sebastian. Have you been informed about Maria’s friend Edward?” Then Mrs. Fisher gave Maria a nudge. “Do you want to tell him about your friend?”
Maria shook her head quickly.
“Is he here right now?” Mrs. Fisher asked.
Maria nodded. She knew she hadn’t much time. IF she wanted to find the treasure and Edward’s true identity, she needed to talk to him right then and there. So what if Sebastian would find out her secret? Mrs. Fisher knew. And if Sebastian didn’t like it, well, she wouldn’t be in New York City much longer anyway. She searched Sebastian’s eager face. He stared at her unblinking, mouth open, with that gap tooth of his peeking out. Maybe he could be trusted.
“Can you pass me a pen and paper?” she asked.
“Certainly,” responded the widow. She searched around on her dining room table for a pen. “Now, Sebastian, what you are about to see Maria do is very special. We like to call it automatic writing. It’s when the spirit world sends messages through writing from the subconscious, and often it appears as poetry.”
Sebastian adjusted his cap. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with … Edward and the treasure?”
Maria ignored him and pulled out a chair from the table. After the paper was in place, she sat at the table and balanced the pen between her knuckles. She shut her eyes and let her head fall back. The cool air consumed her while her hand rocked back and forth over the paper.
Sebastian gasped. “What’s happening?”
“Shhhhh!” said Mrs. Fisher. “Let her finish.”
Maria opened her eyes. The paper was no longer in front of her.
Sebastian shook his head, backing away from her chair. “What did you just do?”
Maria shivered. “Edward’s a ghost,” she said in a half yawn. Sebastian froze. It was hard for Maria to tell the expression on her friend’s face. For what seemed like eternity, his mouth remained open, and his eyes grew large.
Finally, he took a deep breath. “Maria. Ghosts aren’t real. There’s no scientific proof.”
Maria narrowed her eyes, trying to hold back her anger.
“But what you did was a cool trick! You’ll have to teach—”
“I’ve got it!” said Mrs. Fisher. She dropped the paper to the floor and whisked down the hall. After a few moments, her voice sang, “Bingo! I found him!”
Maria and Sebastian raced through the living room and joined Mrs. Fisher in the hallway.
“It’s Eddy De la Cruz!” she said. She pulled a framed photo from the wall and brought it close to Maria and Sebastian so they could see. The black-and-white photo showed a younger Mrs. Fisher laughing at a table with a balding man, presumably her late husband. They were surrounded by a crowd at the dinner party. “There!” Mrs. Fisher’s nail tapped the glass surface of the photo. Her finger rested on the young face of a dark-haired man standing next to a young woman with dark features. He had a brooding brow joined by two creases. “This is your ghost!”
Maria took in the photo. So this was Edward. His dark looks made him sort of handsome, but he seemed quiet, tucked off to the side. She gave the photo back to Mrs. Fisher and asked, “But who was he?”
“He was one of my husband’s students in the eighties!” Mrs. Fisher said, and beamed. “Such a sweet young man! He was a poet, and for a while he was a regular in this house. I last recall he married and had a family … but then I think his wife died. Oh, goodness, it’s been so long. Poor Eddy!”
A poet? Maybe that explained all of the riddles and poems he’d sent her. But Maria wondered why Eddy had picked her to write through.
“That explains how he knew about the gingersnaps in the kitchen,” Mrs. Fisher said. “He loved those cookies.”
Sebastian shifted his weight beside Maria. “Let me get this straight. You both think this man’s a ghost that’s been talking to Maria. I don’t buy it.” Sebastian leaned against the wall.
Maria and Mrs. Fisher glanced at each other.
“I was told there was a treasure hidden in this apartment. Is this whole thing a joke?”
Maria made fists at her side. How could he think she was making all this up? She took a deep breath and tried to hold back from saying anything. Then she realized he did have a point. She had no idea what Eddy De la Cruz had to do with finding the treasure. Maybe Edward had made it all up. But why?
The light from the living room faded to a cool blue and darkened the hallway where they stood. Mrs. Fisher flicked on a light. Maria knew the sun was setting and she needed to be home before her mother and Mr. Fox got back. “Let me ask Edward one more question.”
Maria sat at the table and balanced the pen between her knuckles again. She was nervous with Sebastian standing beside her because she knew he was skeptical. She settled into stillness and waited. “Eddy?” she whispered. “Do you hear me? I’m ready.” She shut her eyes and sat at the table and patiently waited for Edward to write through her.
But nothing happened.
She felt no cold tingle of air, no frost around her hand, no magic at all. She felt only the eyes of a nonbeliever and a caring Mrs. Fisher pressing into her. “Edward?” Maria began again, her voice shaking this time. “I need to know where the treasure is. Are you there?”
Still nothing.
The air around her remained the same temperature. Finally, Maria opened her eyes and said, “He’s gone.”
Sebastian shook his head. “It’s not real.”
Mrs. Fisher rested her hand on Maria’s back and rubbed it gently. “There, there … We can find the treasure another time.”
Maria pulled herself from her chair. “There won’t be another time. I’m sorry, Mrs. Fisher. I’ve failed you.”
“Oh, Maria,” said the widow. She threw her arms around her. “You failed no one. Don’t ever think that!”
Maria knew this might be her last visit with Mrs. Fisher. Soon she’d be on the road searching for another town where she could con widows and other lonely victims. She wanted to tell Mrs. Fisher everything, but it just didn’t seem right. And besides, she needed to leave right then if she was to beat her mother home. She sniffled and pulled away. “I have to go. Goodbye, Mrs. Fisher.”
“Goodbye, Maria,” replied the widow. “And goodbye to you, Sebastian!” Mrs. Fisher stuck out her hand for a handshake. “It was nice to meet you! I do hope you’ll both return soon.”
Sebastian smiled and shook her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you!”
“I’ll prepare us all some lunch again,” said Mrs. Fisher. “And I’ll even have some of that favorite bread of yours, Maria.”
Sebastian pulled on Maria’s sleeve. “Why must we go so soon? If we call our parents, we can stay a little longer. It’s not that I don’t believe there COULD be ghosts. We just need to conduct some experiments to find out the truth.”
Maria grabbed Sebastian’s hand and tugged him through the door. “We’re out of time. I’m supposed to be home now.”
“But—”
“Let’s go!” said Maria. She gave one last glance at the photos lining the walls and glared at the face of Edward seated in the crowd.
And then Maria realized something.
She hadn’t let anyone down. It was Edward. He’d let them all down by disappearing again.
There probably was no hidden treasure to begin with. And why did she have to have Edward for a friend, anyway?
He couldn’t hug her when things were awful.
And things were definitely awful.
He couldn’t stop her mother from taking her away from her home. He couldn’t cook her lasagna like Sebastian’s mom. And he had a way of disappearing just when she needed him most. Right now would have been a good time to prove himself real to Sebastian!
She tore through the door with Sebastian trailing her and stomped down the old stairs. Sebastian argued as he followed behind her, but Maria paid no mind.
Nothing was going her way, and there was no way to fix things.