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TODAY IS OFFICIALLY the last day of Nicholas' vacation. Tomorrow, he returns to work at Freedom Elementary School, where he's a janitor. His vacation lasted for six days, and he did... nothing, pretty much. He went to the diner twice, visited his wife's grave, watched a lot of tv, and drank a lot of vodka. I would have liked to see him get out in the world a bit more, but if that's his idea of a vacation, I'm not going to judge him.
While Nicholas eats lunch—two-day-old pizza—I find myself watching the door. I half-expected Johnny Wong to swing by today, and if he doesn't, I'll be oddly disappointed. Why would he waste his time flirting with me if he wasn't interested in seeing me again? I wouldn't be surprised if he “ghosts” me, though (pun intended). Guys are rarely interested in me. I don't know why, though. I've always thought I was kinda-sorta pretty. I might not be a stunner, but I'm not wholly unappealing.
“Maybe I'm boring,” I whisper to myself as Nicholas chews through an impossibly tough crust. “Am I boring?”
I turn to Nicholas, as if I'm expecting an answer, but... duh, he can't hear me. Maybe I should have been a bit more receptive to Johnny's attention? If I'd flirted back with him, he might have come today.
“As if you've ever flirted with anyone, Lillie,” I grumble to myself. I don't even know how to flirt. Even when I was a young woman, still living on Earth, I was hopeless. I gradually grew into the spinster sister that I became, and I was alright with that... for the most part.
“Nicholas, please throw out the rest of that pizza!” I beg him as he saunters back to the kitchen. He has two slices left, but I'd rather not see him eating it tomorrow as well. It's starting to look a bit gross.
How do you flirt with a guy? I hate to admit it, but I'm clueless. Should I have told Johnny he had nice hair, because he did have nice hair. Should I have complimented his jacket? That might have been a little less awkward. I should have said something to hold his interest, because it's five o'clock, and he hasn't visited.
“Stop... thinking... about... Johnny,” I admonish myself. After all, what was I expecting? A date with a fallen angel? Yeah, that would have been a really bad idea.
I sit with Nicholas and watch tv for the next hour or two. He's watching reruns of old tv shows, which I should probably enjoy more than I do, since I was alive during the early days of television. Bonanza really isn't my thing, though. Nicholas used to watch this with his dad, so I think it makes him nostalgic, but I don't get the same warm and fuzzy feelings from this show. My previous charge was a young British girl with superior taste in television. I really enjoyed Victoria, Poldark and Call the Midwife. I guess I'm a geek for British tv.
Johnny Wong. That name sticks in my head, even though I would love to banish him from my thoughts completely. I wonder... if I went back to the diner, would he be there again?
I ask Nicholas, “Hey, uh... you don't think you'd be interested in eating at Harry's Diner for a third day in a row... maybe?”
Nicholas doesn't budge. He's really glued to Bonanza.
I take out my LightTab—which is basically an afterlife tablet—and search for “Johnny Wong.” I find a few Johnny Wongs, but not the one I'm looking for. If he's a fallen angel, his name has probably been stricken from the records. Archangel Michael has zero tolerance for “Earth Angels” like Johnny. I think he likes to pretend they don't exist.
After Bonanza, Nicholas changes the channel and watches some football... which is marginally less entertaining than the western serial. I do love Nicholas, but our taste in television is dramatically different.
I have nothing else to do, so I manifest a bottle of nail polish and paint my toenails. As soon as I prettify the very last toe, Nicholas decides to go outside, in his backyard. The grass is overgrown, which is ironic, because he cuts his neighbor's, but not his own. He's more dedicated to others than to himself. I follow him to the bench in the backyard, where he lights a cigarette and expels a sigh toward the heavens.
Sometimes I think... sometimes I think we're both very lonely, and I don't know who has it worse. I can see him, but he can never hear me. I'm right beside him, but I'm the friend he can never see. We're so isolated from the rest of the world. I've even isolated myself from the rest of the spirit world. Like Nicholas, I wish for better days more often than I would like to admit.
What is Nicholas' latest wish, I wonder? Most of the time, he's thinking about reuniting with his daughter, but we can't figure out how to make it happen. I decide to peek into his mind, to see if he's thinking anything new. Spirits can do that, you know. With the help of a quartz crystal and a little bit of focus, you can hear the thoughts of almost any human.
Hannah used to ride on that swing over there, Nicholas thinks to himself. I used to push her on that thing when she was a little girl.
I'm not surprised to find him thinking about Hannah, because his daughter is always on his mind. He doesn't think she loves him anymore, but I think she does... at least, I hope she does. I've tried to approach her, to ask her to forgive his past mistakes, but I haven't made it happen. The memory of his drunken tongue is a difficult one to erase—and I wouldn't want to erase it. I want Hannah to be strong, and to give him another chance. I know I'm a silly optimist, but I don't think anyone is a bad person. Irredeemable people are rare. Nicholas has made plenty of mistakes, and that's undeniable, but I want him to know love again. I think everyone deserves to know love, and the absence of love breaks people.
I've known the absence of love; in fact, I feel it now, every day. That's why I keep watching the gate, wishing Johnny would come. I would never admit it to anyone, but like Nicholas, I'm desperate for a friend.
I wish I could go back to those days, Nicholas thinks to himself. Back to the swing, back to Hannah's smiles, back to the days when she needed her daddy. Damn... I really messed up.
He takes a long drag from his cigarette and blows smoke into the air. I feel his pain, and I understand it—because I know it all too well.
I just wish someone would talk to me sometimes, and maybe ask how I'm doing. That would be nice.
My eyes brighten when I hear Nicholas' thought. For once, that sounds like a mission I can actually accomplish! He'll be at work tomorrow, and I know a few teachers at his school really appreciate his hard work. I'll ask one of the ladies to check on him.
We sit together, side-by-side, and listen to the crickets.